Lone Wolfe
by Violet Lylybelle
Summary: "I haven't given up. I'm just not expecting to be rescued." If there's one thing the apocalypse has taught Jenna Wolfe, it's that people are best avoided and you can only rely on yourself. She's been through hell, but with her little boy at her side, she's determined to carve out the best life she can for him. But she never expected to find solace in a man she hardly knew. Shane/OC
1. Red Flags & Alarm Bells

**Disclaimer_: _I own absolutely nothing related to The Walking Dead. No copyright intended here.**

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and suggestive themes.

**Note: **Shane is not the bad guy here, other bad guys will come in due time. Also, he is not interested in Lori or Andrea. This is going to be a Shane/OC story, but it will take time to get there. This will also contain a few extra characters, so be forewarned if that's something that bothers you. The storyline will follow that of the show as a general rule, but there will be some deviances along the way. Also, I have no beta, so I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors. I try to smooth those out as I work, but I am liable to screw up now and then.

**P.S.: **I am not a fan of Andrea's, so if she's a favorite of yours, this is not the fic for you.

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_"I wondered about the explorers who'd sailed their ships to the end of the world. How terrified they must have been when they risked falling over the edge; how amazed to discover, instead, places they had seen only in their dreams."_

_—Jodi Picoult_

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**Part One**

Red Flags & Alarm Bells

The young man down on the road just a few dozen yards from the city line had yet to be joined by others. He was still pacing around the hood of his Honda Accord helplessly, constantly removing the baseball cap from his head and running his hands through his hair in frustration, only to put the cap back on to repeat the process a few moments later. By now, Jenna was sure he was alone, and he looked relatively harmless.

She looked down at Thao, who'd been playing with his Hot Wheels on the floor of the abandoned apartment room they'd camped out in for the night while she'd been watching the young man out the window.

"Come on, bud," she said quietly, gathering up her backpack and slinging it over her shoulder. "Time to get a move on."

He stuffed the two cars into his jeans pocket and pushed his arms through the straps of his own smaller backpack.

"Is he still there?" Thao inquired curiously in a quiet tone while they moved toward the door.

"Yep, still there," she answered, pulling the machete from her belt. "But he's alone, and we're gonna see if he needs any help. Stay close, now," she said as she unlocked the door and turned the knob.

Carefully, she pulled the door back and held a hand out behind her to let Thao know to stay put. She stepped forward and peered down the hallway, seeing nothing to worry about. With a quick, minor motion of her left hand, she beckoned Thao toward her again, and he took hold of the left pocket of her cargo pants obligingly while they moved quietly through the hallway and down to the main floor. She shoved the lobby couch away from the glass front doors where she'd left it the night before, and together, they exited out into the late morning Georgia sunshine.

Scanning around the area, she moved forward when she didn't see any of the dead—they rarely traveled this far into the fringes of the cities, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

The young man—who looked to be of Korean descent—had yet to notice them even as they drew near where he was stuck on the side of the road. He'd closed the hood again, though he hadn't made any repairs, and looked to be about to try and start the car up again to try his luck anyway. Seeing that he was armed, she decided that taking him by surprise wouldn't be the way to go.

Whistling to get his attention, she paused when he spun around, reaching for the revolver tucked into the back of his belt. She stepped in front of Thao immediately and held up her left hand, showing she meant no harm as long as she wasn't threatened. On the other hand, she didn't put down her machete, not about to be the first to back down.

"Calm down, man, I don't want any trouble," she said in a level, neutral tone.

He backed down almost immediately, and Jenna wanted to smirk and shake her head wryly; there were benefits to being small and female, even if there were many, many drawbacks to counter them.

"Right, sorry," he said a little sheepishly, stowing the Smith & Wesson back into his belt.

"Car troubles, huh?" she ventured, nodding toward the Honda Accord that had been immobile for the better part of two hours.

The young man laughed dryly, nodding as he looked back at the car. "Won't start."

Hmm. Perhaps a trade could be made here. She gave him a quick once over, sizing him up. He was bigger than her, of course—at five foot two and barely breaking one hundred pounds, it was hard not to encounter a person who was bigger than her—but he wasn't very big as far as men went. And something about his demeanor told her that she could knock him on his ass if it came down to it.

"Would you mind if I took a look at it?" she offered, securing the machete to her belt again.

The young man turned his gaze back to her, giving her a quizzical expression.

She smirked slightly. "Just humor me for a second," she requested, stepping forward. "Pop the hood."

After a moment of hesitation, he seemed to decide that he really had nothing to lose at that point, and popped the hood obligingly. With Thao close at her heels, Jenna moved to stand in front of the engine, giving it a quick scan. The battery looked new, and the wires were connected properly, so that wasn't the problem.

"Try to start it again," she said, leaning back and gazing down at the machinery intently.

The man did as she'd said, and the engine gave a few clicks rather than turning over a few times. Hmm.

"Alright, stop," she said, and when he pulled the keys from the ignition again, she leaned forward. "It doesn't seem to be getting a charge at all…" she mused as the young man came around to study the engine at her side.

She took automatic note of his proximity, and calculated exactly how she'd retaliate if the need presented itself.

"Nice gun," he noted, having spotted her pistol tucked behind her belt.

"Thanks, I have a thing for Italian weapons," she said offhandedly, reaching down to examine the alternator. Compact cars always made it nearly impossible to see what you were doing, but they were at least something she was familiar with.

"Huh?" he asked, puzzled.

"Beretta," she said without looking back, but jerking a thumb at the gun in her belt. "Italian manufacturer."

"Oh, cool," he said, and she smirked again. "What're you doing, exactly?" he wondered then.

"Going on a hunch…" she said, reaching between the cruise control and the alternator, feeling her way around. "And I think I found your problem. Alternator belt slipped out of place."

"Can you fix it?" Thao wondered, leaning forward on his toes to try and see what she was doing.

"Yeah, I think so," Jenna replied, struggling to work the belt back into place in the tight confines of the compact engine. "Man, this thing's down to the bone…" she mumbled, her fingers feeling along the very worn-down underside of the belt.

When she had the belt secured back into place, she straightened up, wiping her oil-stained hand on the side of her pants.

"Will it work now?" the young man inquired hopefully.

"It _should_," she said truthfully. "That belt's in bad shape, though… Give it a try."

He slipped back into the driver's seat and inserted the key into the ignition. When the car started up again after the engine turned over a few times, a wide grin spread across his face, and he leaned back into the seat with a heavy sigh of relief.

"Thank you, so much, uh…?" he said, stepping out of the car and leaning on the open door.

"Jenna," she answered.

"Thanks, Jenna," he said sincerely, and held out his hand. After a moment, she accepted the handshake he'd offered. "I'm Glenn."

"Glenn," she said, nodding. "This little man here is Thao," she introduced, ruffling the boy's hair, making him laugh.

"Hey, kid," said Glenn to Thao cheerfully, and then looked back up at Jenna. "Hey, look, I gotta repay you somehow—I would've been stuck here if you hadn't come along. Anything I can do?"

_Glad you asked…_ "Give us a ride?" she asked.

"Where?" he wondered.

She shrugged. "As far as you'll take us," she said simply. "We're just trying to get away from the city."

He nodded. "Alright, done," he agreed easily. "Hey, my group is camped out up at a quarry not far from here. If you want, you can rest up there for a while. We've got food, water, shelter. It'd be the least I can do for getting me outta here."

She contemplated that. "How many people, exactly?"

"Maybe…twenty or so," he replied, "give or take a few. Not just guys," he assured her, correctly guessing one of her primary concerns. "Women and children, too."

She considered that new information. "Your people wouldn't mind taking in a couple strangers for a while?" she wondered.

He shook his head. "No, not at all. Most of our people are really nice."

"Most?" she inquired, eyebrow raised.

He laughed lightly. "Yeah, well…the Dixon brothers don't really like anybody—especially if you're not white—and to be honest, I'd stay away from Roy McFadden if I were you," he informed. "But other than that, everyone's pretty nice. Plus, we have a cop who's sort of like our leader—he keeps people in line pretty well."

She nodded, the red flags that had shot up slowly lowering back down. It seemed safe enough…and it would give her and Thao the opportunity to get their bearings before heading out again.

"Alright," she said eventually. "You've got a deal."

He grinned again—not a leer, but a genuinely friendly smile. "Cool," he said. "Here, let me move some things in the back. We can get outta here before walkers show up."

He shifted the supplies he'd apparently scavenged from the city to make enough room for Thao to sit securely in the backseat. Jenna ruffled his hair and closed the door after him before sliding into the passenger seat, settling her backpack on the floor between her knees.

"Walkers?" she inquired when they'd pulled away from the side of the road.

"That's what we call the dead," he explained. She just nodded, understanding now. "What do you call them?" he wondered.

She shrugged. "Didn't really call them anything. Just…_them_."

They cruised up the road, the windows down to try and cool them off in the humid Georgia heat, and eventually the asphalt gave way to dirt and gravel when Glenn took a right up a winding road bordered by a rock wall on one side and a cliff-like drop on the other. This was a part of Georgia Jenna had certainly never seen before.

"We're in range now…" Glenn muttered, turning on the CB radio. "This is Glenn, comeback," he said, speaking into the radio.

There was a sputter of static, but then a voice came through.

"This is Shane, I read ya, comeback," said the deeper, gruffer voice.

"I'm on my way up, with two visitors; a girl and a kid," said Glenn. "She helped me out of a tight spot, and I offered her a place with us. Copy?"

"Copy. Tell us the full story when ya get here."

"Over and out."

Glenn rested the speaker back into the dock, and Jenna's brows were raised, impressed. These people were pretty organized.

It wasn't long before a few other parked vehicles could be seen, and when Glenn parked the Honda up beside a Dodge Wagon, Jenna could see most of the campground—and a whole lot of people. Little red flags were shooting up again, and alarm bells chimed in her head as she took note of exactly how many people—exactly how many of those people were men, to be specific—had gathered around what appeared to be the camp's center. There were more living people here than Jenna had seen since the outbreak had gotten out of hand weeks ago.

She exited the car, helping Thao out before gathering her backpack and slinging it over her shoulder, and watching as a man with black hair and a blue button-down approached them, Mossberg held resting over his shoulder.

"Good to see ya back, man," said the bigger man to Glenn. "Ya had us worried for a bit there."

"Car trouble," Glenn explained. "Just barely made it outta the city when it stopped and wouldn't start again." He jerked a thumb in Jenna's direction. "This is Jenna—she got it started for me."

The man turned his brown eyes to her, giving her a polite nod. "Jenna," he greeted, stepping forward and holding a hand out. "Shane," he introduced himself.

Forcing herself not to be alarmed by his much, much more threatening stature than that of Glenn, Jenna stepped forward, meeting him halfway, and shook his much larger hand. His demeanor was decidedly non-threatening, despite his size and physique, and the Mossberg in his hand was no more threatening than her own machete or Beretta was intended to be.

"Hey, little man," greeted Shane, giving Thao a smile.

Jenna ruffled his hair, letting him know things were still safe. "This is Thao, my partner in crime these days," she said fondly.

"Partner in crime, huh?" Shane inquired, smirking. "Well, Thao, I'm _officer_ Shane Walsh. So I'll be keepin my eye on you, kiddo," he mock-warned, giving Thao a wink, causing him to laugh lightly.

Jenna noticed that, unlike Glenn, Shane had a southern accent, so she assumed he was from the area.

She looked past Shane at the sound of multiple footsteps over dirt and gravel, and saw a group of more men approaching—presumably to gather the supplies Glenn had brought back. If it weren't for the presence of the women and children within eyesight, Jenna would've grabbed Thao and taken off at a sprint into the trees. More red flags, more alarm bells.

"Yo, man, what took you so long?" asked a black man with a gray and black beret hat as he approached with the rest.

"Car trouble," Glenn explained.

"What's wrong with my car?" asked a slightly heavily-built Mexican man in his thirties, looking puzzled as he gave the Honda a once-over.

"Something with the alternator, or something…couldn't get a charge…" Glenn looked to Jenna for assistance. "She can explain it."

Every eye turned to her then, and she scanned her eyes around them briefly before focusing on the Mexican man—the one who was obviously the owner of the Honda, and _not_ raking his eyes up and down her body like a starving animal.

"Alternator belt slipped out of place," she explained. "I got it back in place, but it's in bad shape, man."

"Oh yeah?" asked a man in a dirty blue jumpsuit, looking both amused and impressed.

"Thing's worn down to the bone," she confirmed.

He nodded, accepting her assessment, apparently. "I'll take a look at it," he said to the Mexican man, clapping him on the shoulder. "Won't be long before it can't get a charge at all."

"Smart woman," muttered a man with sandy brown hair and a Horton crossbow slung over his shoulder, as he made his way toward the Honda to help the others unload the supplies. Jenna didn't find anything alarming about him, but the older man at his side, who—judging by the very similar eye color—might've been his brother seemed more interested in scoping out Jenna's body than her minimal knowledge of cars.

_So, that's two to watch out for…_she assessed automatically, stepping back to be out of the way while they unloaded the car. _Make that three, _she noted when a man with scraggly black hair and a golden front tooth gave her a shameless leer.

"Jenna," said Shane, catching her attention. "You can go on up to camp with Dale," he said, gesturing to a kind-looking old man wearing a fisherman's hat and a Hawaiian shirt. "He'll get y'all situated."

She nodded. "Thank you."

He nodded politely in return, and she motioned for Thao to follow after her as she approached the old man, who was smiling kindly at the two of them.

"Hello, Miss," he greeted, holding out his hand. "I'm Dale."

She smiled, liking him already. There was just something about him that reminded her of her best friend's grandfather, whom Jenna had been very fond of.

"I'm Jenna," she replied, shaking his hand. "This is Thao. Thanks for letting us stay."

"Of course," he said jovially as they made their way into the camp's center. "It's the least we can do for gettin Glenn outta trouble. Now, sleeping quarters are a little cramped, but not too bad, as long as you've got your own tent. Do you have one?"

"No," said Jenna regretfully as they neared an old Winnebago RV. "Our tent was lost in our last car in the city two days ago. Car was swarmed," she said explanatorily.

"Oh, sorry to hear that," he said sincerely. "I'm sure we can find somethin for ya…"

"They can bunk with me," came a voice—a voice that sounded exactly as Jenna would've imagined belonged to a southern bell.

She turned her head to the left to follow the voice, and her eyes landed on a girl who looked to be about her own age. Her skin was a smooth mocha color, her hair was abundant and curly, and her eyes were bright golden brown. The smile on her face radiated friendliness, and Jenna liked her immediately.

"Just me an' myself in that big ol' tent," she said as she approached. "Got plenty of room."

"Sure you wouldn't mind?" Jenna asked for the sake of being polite.

The girl waved a hand dismissively. "Naw, not one bit," she promised, and held out her hand. "Hi, I'm Dustine—jus' call me Dusty, I hate Dustine."

Jenna grinned, shaking the girl's hand. "Dusty," she repeated.

"I know, it's ridiculous, ain't it?" Dusty asked with a laugh. "Swear on my life, I don't know what my mama was thinkin when she gave me that name."

Jenna shook her head. "No, I like it," she said truthfully. "I'm Jenna."

"Jenna," repeated Dusty, and she grinned down at Thao. "An' who's the big guy here?"

"This is Thao," Jenna introduced, ruffling the boy's hair again while he grinned back at Dusty. "My trusty wingman."

Dusty gave Thao a wink. "Well, c'mon, big guy," she said. "Let's go get y'all set up." She nodded to Dale. "I got it from here, Dale."

Jenna nodded at him as they went different ways. "Thanks, Dale."

She followed Dusty across the campsite, taking note of the other people that all gave her and Thao inquiring looks as they passed. Some of them nodded politely, and some of them just stared. A pair of blonde women coming back up from the quarry with a load of wet laundry in their hands eyed her curiously. The younger of the two gave Jenna a smile, but the older just looked her up and down in puzzlement.

They approached an orange and gray tent that looked capable of fitting four people comfortably, and Dusty unzipped the door to let them inside. She picked up some of the clothing items that were lying around, but other than that, it was pretty clean.

Jenna dropped her bag in a bare corner and helped Thao remove his before setting it down beside hers. Assuming that no one would be breaking into Dusty's tent, Jenna considered it safe enough to empty the contents of her pockets into her bag for the time being. The cargo pants were much heavier than jeans had ever been, and they were hard enough to keep from sliding off without the added weight.

"Y'all don't have sleepin bags?" Dusty presumed, taking note of their supplies.

Jenna shook her head. "No, we lost those, too."

"Well, Jacki might be able to help you out," she said then. "Her an' T got a few extras, I think. C'mon."

With that, Jenna and Thao followed her out of the tent again, and over to another just a few yards away. It was blue and gray, and about the same size as Dusty's. A black woman with short hair and pretty cat eyes was sitting in front of it on a log-converted-chair, folding clothes.

"Hey, Jacki," Dusty greeted. "This is Jenna an' her little man, Thao," he introduced.

Jacki smiled up at them kindly. "You're the one who got Glenn outta trouble down in the city, huh?" she presumed, and Jenna nodded.

"You got any extra sleepin bags?" Dusty inquired. "They lost their stuff a few days ago."

"Oh, I'm sure we have somethin," said Jacki generously. "Let me see what I can find." She entered the tent and returned with two small sleeping bags, one blue, one red. "They're pretty small, but they're all we've got," she said regretfully.

Jenna smiled. "They're perfect, thanks," she said sincerely, accepting them from the kind woman.

She looked down at Thao, smiling slightly. Their luck was finally starting to turn around, it would seem. She was supremely glad that she'd chanced the trip up into the unknown, despite the risks large groups of strangers presented. Looking around the area, she had to admit…these people didn't seem so bad.

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**Note: **

Hi! Thank you for taking the time to give my story a shot, it means a lot to me. One thing I'd just like to make clear for everyone is that while this is a Shane/OC pairing, this is by no means a romance story. It's a story of survival and struggling not to let the apocalyptic world destroy the person you are, and two people are eventually drawn together. There's not going to be much fluff, and the smut is a long, long ways off. I just thought I'd get that out there now.

Anyway, I hope you decide to stick around and see where Jenna goes from here. Happy reading!

**PS:** Pictures of characters are now on my profile page, if you're interested.


	2. Remember to Relax

**Disclaimer_: _I own absolutely nothing related to The Walking Dead. No copyright intended here.**

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and suggestive themes.

**Note: **More about Thao will be revealed in this chapter.

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_"There are times when we stop, we sit still. We listen and breezes from a whole other world begin to whisper." _  
_―James Carroll_

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Remember to Relax

Once they'd stowed the sleeping bags in Dusty's tent along with their belongings, Jenna dug through her backpack, deliberating when she grabbed a box of fifteen Winchester Buckshot rounds. Well, this was definitely a good trade, so she decided that she might as well pay up.

With the ammo under her arm and Thao holding onto her left pocket, Jenna let Dusty lead her around the campsite, showing her where things were, where everyone could usually be found, and rattling off names as she pointed each person out. Jenna was glad that names-and-faces was a game she'd been pretty good at all her life, or else there would've been no hope of telling who was who around here.

She met the two blondes again, this time properly. Amy, the younger of the two, seemed like a sweet girl, but there was something in the expression in the face of her older sister, Andrea, that Jenna just didn't like. But, perhaps she was being too quick to judge.

The Mexican man who owned the Honda turned out to be named Gabe Morales, and he and his wife, Miranda, had two sweet kids; a shy girl named Eliza and a wild little boy named Louis, who smiled up at Jenna from beneath his curly mop of hair, adorable little dimples on his cheeks. Louis invited Thao to play in the dirt with him in front of his family's tent, but Thao, not being accustomed to leaving Jenna's side, declined shyly.

Not far from the Morales family was a tall, thin brunette woman and her sweet ten-year-old son, Carl. Jenna was impressed at how polite he was for his age, and wondered vaguely what had happened to his father—though, she didn't want to ask.

"Cool machete," Carl noted, admiring the blade secured to Jenna's right hip.

She looked down, glad that it had been cleaned just last night, so no remnants of blood and gore stained it currently.

"Thanks," she said with some amusement, but didn't go into any further detail on her trusty blade under the watchful gaze of Lori Grimes.

She was then introduced to Carol, a woman with very short hair and pretty light eyes, and her young daughter, Sophia. Carol was a very sweet woman with an obvious gentle nature, and Sophia was a polite little thing, somewhat shy and lanky, but pretty just the same.

"Watch out for that one," said Dusty in an undertone as they walked along, shifting her eyes toward an overweight man sitting back lazily in a lawn chair in front of a fire pit, smoking. "That's Ed, Carol's husband. Some of us think he beats on her, but we can't really be sure. He's a mean son of a bitch either way."

Jenna gave Ed a quick scan, finding that she wasn't surprised. _Note to self—watch out for Tubby,_ she decided. If Ed truly did beat Carol, that would've been just horrible. How could such a big man have no qualms about knocking around a sweet woman like Carol?

"Who's Roy McFadden?" she wondered quietly as they returned to the camp's center, looking around at the men as they finished up storing away the supplies before returning to their various activities.

"Oooh, watch out for that one too," Dusty advised, scanning around searchingly. "He's just a creep an' don't try to hide it. There he is—the one with the black jacket."

Jenna followed her discreet gesture to see that she'd indicated the man with the gold tooth.

"Glenn tell you about him?" Dusty assumed, and she nodded. "Glenn's a sweetheart," she said fondly. "He's always lookin out for the rest of us. An' he's usually damn good at gettin in an' outta the city like it's nothin. He's our go-to-town guy."

Jenna looked around at the others as they slowly moved through the camp. "What about that guy, with the red shirt?" she asked, pointing to the Hispanic man who'd been checking her out earlier.

"Oh, Tito?" Dusty said, following her gaze. "He's a flirt, but nothin too bad. And there's the Dixon brothers—Daryl's not too much of an asshole, but Merle, the older one…ugh—no one likes him."

"Y'all get settled in?" came a gruff voice from their left, and they turned to see Shane approaching, Mossberg in hand.

"Yeah, they're crashin with me," Dusty told him.

"Here," said Jenna, holding out the box of ammo for him to take. He looked down at it in surprise, and then his eyes rose to hers questioningly. "This buckshot isn't doing my Beretta any good, and I was mostly keeping it for trade anyway. I think it's safe to say that this is as good a trade as I'm gonna get out of these."

He nodded after a moment, accepting the box. "Thank you," he said, sincerely grateful. "Don't have much ammo to go around here."

She shrugged. "That's where machetes come in," she said, looking around the area. "Doesn't look like you get many…what did you guys call them—walkers?" Dusty nodded. "It doesn't seem like many walkers come up here anyway."

"Naw, things are pretty safe up here outta the city," Shane confirmed.

_Usually is, _Jenna mused thoughtfully, looking around.

"Oh, an' here's Jim, but I think you met him already," said Dusty as the tall, slim man in the blue jumpsuit approached, wiping his hands on an oily rag.

"Hi, Jenna?" he asked, reaching forward to shake her hand.

"Yeah," she said, giving it a shake. "Jim, right?"

He nodded, and looked back in the direction of the cars. "Can I ask you how you knew to check the alternator belt?" he asked, getting right to the point. "No offense, but I never met a woman who even bothered to check the oil once in a while."

She smirked slightly. "The same thing happened to my car when I was a teenager," she explained. "I helped my dad fix it."

"Good thing you remembered," he commented, looking slightly impressed again.

Jenna shrugged. She'd grown up a tomboy. While her sisters were worrying about their outfits and hair, or playing with Barbies, Jenna was playing catch with her dad or watching him make household repairs over the years, assisting him when she could. When she'd gotten older, she'd befriended a boy who was very into cars and motorcycles, and they'd spent most weekends in his parents' garage, tuning up his Harley Sprint or his dad's BMW. Makeup and nail polish be damned—Jenna had just wanted to play with tools and admire her father's hunting gear when she wasn't too busy reading.

Now, looking back, Jenna had never been so glad to have been a tomboy. Learning to French braid and give herself a manicure certainly wouldn't have been any help to her these days.

* * *

It was midafternoon, and Jenna had cleaned off in a secluded little corner of the quarry with Dusty while Thao played with his cars nearby. It was good to get clean again—even if it was just water from the quarry. It had been two days since she'd been able to get clean.

Dusty whistled while Jenna pulled on a clean shirt of hers that she'd lent for the time being, and Jenna raised a brow at her inquiringly.

"Damn, that's one hell of a scar you got there," she said, nodding at the jagged scar above Jenna's right hipbone.

"Oh, yeah," said Jenna, buttoning up the blue flannel shirt. This was the first time she'd ever had to lie about her scar. "I've had it since I was a kid—skateboarding accident."

"Ouch—what the hell'd you do? Skate right into a pole or somethin?" Dusty asked.

Jenna laughed under her breath. "Yeah, something like that," she lied. "Actually, I messed up trying to grind on a bench down at the park, and I landed stomach-first on the corner of it."

Dusty whistled again, wringing out her hair before tossing it over her shoulder. "Must be why my mama never gave me a skateboard for Christmas like I asked."

They laughed together as they watched Thao splash around in the water in his shorts, thoroughly enjoying himself.

"Hey, cool—a frog!" he exclaimed happily, pointing at the water in front of him.

Jenna chuckled slightly. "Try and catch it!"

He crouched low, preparing to lunge, and then dove forward, hands grasping in the water for the frog he may or may not have seen. Jenna and Dusty laughed as they watched him reaching around, searching for the water-dwellers.

"He's a cutie," said Dusty, giggling as she watched Thao play. "Is he…yours?"

Jenna shook her head, understanding what she was asking and why she was asking it. Thao was five, and Jenna was twenty-two, meaning she would've had to be a teen mom if he was hers biologically. And, the more obvious reason was that Thao was Vietnamese, while Jenna was mostly Caucasian.

"He's not mine biologically," she explained. "But, I'm all he's got now. And he's all I've got."

Dusty nodded somberly. "How'd you meet him?"

Jenna skipped over the gory details of what exactly had brought her to Colorado so many weeks ago, and gave Dusty the shorter version. "I was travelling through Colorado Springs back in early June," she began. "I was looking for a place to sleep for the night, and I came across a little part of town that wasn't overrun, but abandoned. There was hardly a walker in sight. Anyway, I was looking through windows of the buildings I passed, looking for a good place, and then I came across a daycare center—and I see a little boy inside. He was just sitting there at the little table, playing with a puzzle, and from what I could see, he was alone in there. The door was locked, so I got him to open it and let me in. The place was empty except for him. From what he told me, I gathered that his parents hadn't made it back in time to pick him up, and the staff had just left him behind, probably hoping that his parents would come back eventually. _Why_ they didn't just take him with them, I'll never understand. How the hell could you leave a five-year-old child alone like that?"

She shook her head, recalling the anger and disbelief she'd felt that day.

"It turned out that he'd been living off the snacks in the backroom, waiting for his parents to come and pick him up," she continued after a moment. "He told me that the daycare lady had told him to keep the doors closed and to wait for his mom and dad, and then she locked the door and left him there."

"Holy shit…" breathed Dusty in bewilderment. "How could they just…? What happened to his parents?"

Jenna shrugged. "I'm not sure, to be honest," she said solemnly, watching Thao play in the water. "I pulled his file from the cabinet in the office room of the daycare, and drove to his address when he'd fallen asleep in the car I was using then. I didn't want him to know what I was doing in case I found them…dead…"

"But you didn't," she deduced, "find em dead, I mean."

Jenna shook her head. "The door of their house was open, and from what I saw inside, it had been thoroughly ransacked long before I'd gotten there. There were no cars out front or in the garage. So what happened to them is as unclear to me as it is to you. I'd like to think that maybe they just didn't make it to him in time before they were lost—it's better than the alternative; that they just left him—but I have no idea what led to Thao getting left behind. There was no way in hell that I was gonna leave him behind too, though."

"I couldn't imagine them leavin him," Dusty mused after a moment. "He's such a sweetie pie. How could they leave him behind?"

Jenna just shook her head again, at a loss. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"Well," said Dusty eventually. "At least he's got you," she said, giving Jenna's arm a nudge. "Teach him all about cars an' whatnot."

Jenna snorted a laugh, watching Thao dive for another frog.

They stayed down at the quarry for a while longer, and Jenna took the opportunity to wash her and Thao's clothes while she borrowed Dusty's; blue jeans and flannel. The jeans were pretty form-fitting, which Jenna wasn't too sure about with the abundance of men around the camp. But, as long as she was armed and wary, she decided she didn't have much to worry about. The jeans were a lot lighter than the cargo pants, in any case.

Once Thao had redressed and dried off, they made their way back up to camp, cleaned clothes in hand. Everyone seemed to be preparing the fire pits for the night, getting themselves situated comfortably around a pit of their choice.

Jenna and Dusty hung their clothes on the line to dry, and Dusty pulled Jenna over to one of the fire pits where Jacki and T-Dog had already situated themselves.

"Hey, you're that new girl everybody's talkin about," came a young voice, and Jenna turned her head to see two teenaged boys approaching the pit.

"Ugh, sorry—forgot to warn you about these idiots," muttered Dusty.

"Yeah, that would be me," said Jenna to the boys amusedly.

The one with dimples and a trucker's hat over his curly brown hair paused a few feet away, his blond friend at his side, and frowned.

"Where you from, girl—you talk funny," he noted inquiringly, with as thick of a southern accent as Jenna could imagine.

"Boy, watch your mouth," Jacki chastised. "Don't be rude."

Jenna just laughed lightly, unruffled. "Do I?" she asked the boy wryly. "Imagine what you sound like to me, kid."

Shane chuckled under his breath as he seated himself on the ground at T-Dog's right, Carl claiming a spot at Shane's other side quickly as though afraid it wouldn't be vacant much longer. Jenna had wondered if Shane was the boy's father, but had deduced that he wasn't. They looked nothing alike, and Carl's blue eyes had to have come from somewhere, seeing as Lori's were hazel.

The kid with the trucker's hat smirked at Jenna then. "Sup, girl—I'm Tyler," he said, reaching out to shake her hand.

"Jenna," she said, shaking it.

"Dillon," said the other boy more politely, shaking her hand next. "Sorry 'bout Tyler—thinks he's a player."

Jenna nodded and took a seat on a log with Dusty, Thao sitting snuggled between them. Miranda and Gabe came to join their gathering, and it didn't take long for Thao and Louis to fall into easy play down in front of them, making little mounds in the dirt they dubbed "castles."

Dinner was modest—each of them had a helping of cooked beans—but it was also a strangely pleasant affair. Group gatherings really weren't Jenna's thing, especially now in days. But with Dusty's easygoing friendliness, Jacki's warm humor, and Miranda's kindness, Jenna found herself relaxing rather quickly. And, thankfully, the others didn't plague her with questions, meaning she wouldn't have to weave stories whenever their inquiries made that necessary. She liked Dusty and Jacki, and she liked Miranda, but there were just some things that she was not willing to share. With anyone, no matter how nice they were, or how harmless their intentions may have been.

"You never answered me," said Tyler to Jenna eventually, when most everyone had eaten through their small dinner. "Where you from?"

_So much for that. _

"Up north," she said vaguely, not wanting to give details. Details spurred questions in her case.

"Ah, city girl," he noted, and she shrugged, not disputing that. "Must be pretty rough for you bein out in the sticks, huh?"

"What would you know about bein out in the sticks?" Dusty asked him irritably. "You're from _Dalton_, and you ain't no urban cowboy."

The others laughed lightly, and Tyler gave her an annoyed glare. "Just makin conversation, Dust Devil," he teased, and then turned his gaze back to Jenna, giving her a smile. "How old are you, sweetheart?"

She quirked a brow. _Sweetheart?_ "Too old for you, kiddo," she replied with a laugh.

Thankfully, his next line of questioning was cut off by Shane, who told him to put a sock in it and leave Jenna alone. It was dark by the time the fire had been put out and the others started heading off toward their respective tents. Apparently, Shane was taking first watch for the night and climbed up onto the top of the RV, settling himself in a foldout chair beneath a large umbrella. Jenna wondered vaguely who would be relieving him as she carried a very sleepy Thao over toward Dusty's tent.

She unrolled the red sleeping bag and got him settled into it, where he nodded off almost immediately. She smoothed his hair back fondly before kicking off her boots and getting comfy in the blue sleeping bag next to him.

Knowing that Shane was up on the RV keeping watch over everything, Jenna was able to let herself fall asleep without having to worry about keeping her guard up. And that was a very welcome change.


	3. Safety in Numbers

**Disclaimer_: _I own absolutely nothing related to The Walking Dead. No copyright intended here.**

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and suggestive themes.

**Note: **Jenna has trust issues. Give her time to grow out of the habit of being so jumpy. She'll get there.

* * *

_"The past cannot be cured."_

_-Queen Elizabeth I_

* * *

Safety in Numbers

Jenna snapped up suddenly in response to the sound of gunfire and had her own gun out and ready in the next moment. It was so close, they had to be right next to her. She'd distinctly heard three shots, one after another.

But as she looked around, her thoughts catching up with her thunderous heart, she began to ground herself back into reality. She was in a tent, Thao was sleeping in a red sleeping bag at her left, that nice girl, Dusty, sound asleep at her right. No one else was there. And, more to the point, those three gunshots had sounded exactly like the same gunshots she'd been hearing in her sleep for the past seven weeks.

_Just a dream…nothing but a dream…_

She fell back with a sigh, relaxing the grip she had on her Beretta, and worked on steadying her erratic breathing.

For the next hour or so, Jenna chanted that mantra over and over again in her head, willing herself to calm back down. Telling herself that she was safe, that Thao was safe, and that there was nothing to worry about. Because it was only a dream now, and nightmares couldn't hurt her.

Even so, her heart slowly steadied in response to the amount of time she spent lying there rather than because of her pointless mantra. Because it wasn't just a dream. It was a memory that she'd forced into the recesses of her mind, in the dark an hollow places where she kept everything else that haunted her. All the things that remained mostly dormant until she fell asleep, leaving her mind unguarded, allowing them to escape. Since they couldn't plague her conscious mind, they haunted her in her sleep.

The light of dawn was seeping into the tent through the seams, and Jenna knew it would only get brighter as time progressed. Not that she'd be able to sleep for a long while anyway.

Looking down at Thao, Jenna decided to let him sleep. He deserved it after that trek through the city. He'd been so brave the whole time, even when they'd had to escape down that alley when they'd returned to their car only to find it swarmed. He hadn't cried once. He'd just let her throw him over her shoulder in a fireman's carry while she ran through alleyways, running from the horde before it could spot them and searching for a safe place to stop and rest.

At least they'd had their backpacks on them while they'd stopped to scavenge—otherwise, they would've had to go the night without food or water, and all of Jenna's ammo would've been lost.

It had been a risk going into the city, but they'd needed the supplies. Back roads were safer when it came to avoiding the dead, but what they lacked in walkers, they made up for in an even more severe lack of supplies to pick from. There weren't many abandoned cars to pillage, and just about every gas station—which were few and far between—was burned down or had been thoroughly ransacked and overrun long before she'd made it there. Unfortunately, all of the supplies tended to reside in the most dangerous places—cities and other metropolitan areas.

Jenna smoothed Thao's hair back gently, so as not to wake him, and exited the tent, zipping the door closed after her.

It was barely dawn, so the amount of people up and about outside of their tents was minimal, which suited Jenna just fine. Sure, most of these people seemed genuinely nice and everything, but as far as she was concerned, it was all just an accident waiting to happen. This many people who were barely more than strangers living in such close quarters…tensions were already high with the state of the world as it was. Adding dense numbers to the mix couldn't have made things better.

More to the point, though—there were just too many _men_. There were enough women to keep Jenna from grabbing Thao and hightailing it out of there, but still, there were much more men than she would have liked.

The fact was, when it came to men she didn't know, she'd learned to avoid them at all costs and attack when avoidance wasn't possible. Better to attack them before they got the chance to attack her. But here, she was greatly outnumbered. There were too many of them to keep track of at once, and it had her strung tighter than guitar strings.

_It's only temporary, _she reminded herself. She'd see about a map, locating possible means of transportation, and then she and Thao would be on their way.

On her way back from collecting the laundry she and Dusty had hung the day before, she spotted Daryl sitting outside of the tent he shared with his brother, wiping down his crossbow. It was a nice bow, that was for sure, though Jenna highly doubted whether she could string it.

"Nice Horton," she said as she made to pass his tent. She couldn't help it. The thing was just so…badass.

His eyes rose to meet hers briefly before turning back down to his weapon, adding arrows to it. "Ever shoot one before?" he asked.

"Not a crossbow," she replied honestly. "Just my dad's compact bow. Bear Empire."

"City man liked to hunt?" he asked doubtfully.

She smirked slightly. "On the weekends whenever he had the chance," she said honestly. "But he preferred his Winchester to the Empire. He wasn't much of a bowman," she recalled fondly, a subtle ache in her chest for the memory of her lost father.

"Well, if it ain't little Miss Man," chortled a gravelly voice as the tent door swung open.

Merle stepped out, giving Jenna an appreciative smile, and Jenna considered walking away while she still had the chance. One Dixon brother wasn't bad, but two—that was more than she'd bargained for. But, to be honest, she couldn't see Daryl doing anything to hurt her, and she made the assumption that as long as she wasn't alone with Merle, she'd be alright. She had the impression that he was more bark than bite anyway.

"How's about a big hug for your good pal Merle, hm?" he suggested mockingly, spreading his arms out.

"No, I'm good, thanks," she said, caught somewhere between amusement and caution.

"Take it or leave it, sugar-tits," he said, making her raise an eyebrow. "I'm headin into the city today, an' I might be willin to bring ya back somethin special, if you're willin to pay up," he finished suggestively, giving her a leer.

Daryl spat out a breath of annoyance, shaking his head and grumbling to himself while he made adjustments to his Horton.

But, Merle's suggestion did give Jenna an idea.

"Well, since you offered, what do you say to bringing me back a car?" she asked. One thing she hadn't learned was how to hotwire the damn things. "And you can have these."

She pulled the box of Marlboro cigarettes from her back pocket, giving them a little wave. The man looked tempted, but she knew he wasn't done bartering—purely for the sake of harassing her, no doubt.

"Couldn't get one yourself down in the big city, Miss Auto Queen?" he taunted.

"I can fix them sometimes, but I can't hotwire them," she explained wryly. "That's where you come in, good sir."

Merle didn't seem to know whether to be amused or not, and Jenna was having a hard time getting a gauge on his mood. He was one difficult man to read, that much she was sure of.

"What's in it for me, sugar-tits?" he asked then.

"You mean besides all twenty Marlboro Reds here?" she asked, giving the full pack another little wave. "Nothing, but I can take my business elsewhere, I guess."

With that, she stuffed the pack into her pocket again and turned to be on her way.

"Now hold on a minute there," he said, and she stifled her smirk as she turned around again, raising an eyebrow inquiringly. "Toss me a few from that pack ya got there, an' I'll think about it," he offered, gesturing to the pack impatiently.

She considered that, weighing her options. "How about one to think about it," she said tossing him one cigarette, "and you'll get the other nineteen if you bring me back a car."

He let out a breath of laughter, twirling the cigarette between his fingers. "Anythin specific you're lookin for?" he asked sarcastically.

"Anything small, and preferably with all windows intact," she said simply.

"I'll see what I can do," he said, and she nodded, turning to walk away again. "Hey, sugar-tits," he called, making her stop and turn around again, not letting herself bristle in response to the nickname. "You got a light, honey?" he asked, holding the cigarette up.

Her first inclination was to tell him no, not wanting to get near him or prolong this little interaction. But, she wanted a car, and if playing nice was what she had to do, then she'd do it. She hesitated, torn between tossing him her lighter and risking the chance of him deciding to keep it for good, and not wanting to step closer to him. Well, they were out in the open, with other _living_ people well within screaming distance…

"Yeah," she said eventually, pulling the zippo lighter from her pocket and flicking the top back.

She stepped forward, against her better instincts, and lit the cigarette for him, snapping it shut and retreating backward as soon as possible.

"Everythin alright here?" asked a gruff voice from behind her.

Her heart skyrocketed and she spun around, spotting Shane just a couple yards away. Definitely not liking her placement—two men behind her, one man before her—Jenna sidestepped and turned casually so that all three of them were now in front of her.

"Jus' chattin with Miss Mighty Mouse here," Merle said in a mockingly pleasant voice, obviously having noticed the Mighty Mouse tattoo on her right forearm. "You makin house calls, sheriff?"

Shane just shot Merle a quick glare before turning his gaze to Jenna. "Everythin cool?" he asked her instead.

She nodded, willing herself to relax and speak casually. "Yeah. Just making a deal with the good sir," she said, shrugging, and waved a hand in Merle's direction.

Shane raised an inquiring brow at her, and then turned his head in response to the honk of the horn down at the other end of camp, where the others who were apparently heading out were ready to go.

"Chariot awaits," chuckled Merle, slinging his scoped Winchester over his shoulder. "Don't fuck up the hunt, little brother," he said to Daryl over his shoulder as he strode away.

Daryl spat out another annoyed breath, muttering something that sounded like "fucker" under his breath, before stalking off in the other direction to head out for his hunt. Jenna watched him go, wondering how in the hell the two of them managed to share a tent without murdering each other every night.

"You always pick the worst of the bunch to chat with?" Shane asked her when they were both a distance away from them.

She smirked wryly, not bothering to elaborate that she didn't make a habit of spending time in _bunches_. "Not really," she said simply. "Just figured good old Merle would be the best man for the job."

"What job is that?" Shane inquired, somewhat amusedly.

"Hotwiring me a car," she replied.

He nodded, mulling that over. "Headin out soon, huh?" he assumed. She nodded. "This place ain't exactly your cup o' tea, is it?"

She smirked again. "All of you have been really nice and everything, and I'm really grateful for all that you guys have done for Thao and I," she said sincerely, meeting his gaze. "But…we do better on our own."

He seemed to contemplate that before giving her a little half nod. "If that's what you think's best," he said, and something about his tone told her that he thought otherwise.

He reached out, giving her shoulder a light clap, before heading off in the direction of the camp's center, having absolutely no idea just how much he'd scared the hell out of her by doing so. The unexpected touch, innocent as it was, had her heart pounding out an erratic rhythm—and she doubted if he'd noticed, but as soon as his hand made contact with her shoulder, her entire body had tensed up automatically.

She stood there for a few moments, trying to get a hold of herself. _He wasn't going to hurt me…there's nothing to be afraid of…_

"Hey," called a newly familiar voice, snapping her out of it. She turned to see Dusty approaching, hands in her pockets, the picture of ease. "You already got the laundry? Thanks," she gushed, taking her clothes from the bundle in Jenna's arms.

"Yeah, no problem," said Jenna, still working on collecting herself.

Dusty turned her gaze toward where Shane had walked off. "You talkin to Shane?" she inquired, and Jenna nodded. "Man don't know how to button up a shirt properly—Lord knows we thank him for it," she said with a cheeky little smirk.

Jenna managed a snort of laughter as they set off toward the tent to put their clothes away. Dusty was a sweetheart, and someone Jenna could really see herself getting along with. But she needed to get out of there. There were too many people who were likely to get a little too close, and as harmless as their intentions may be, Jenna was just not willing to risk it. Nor was she willing to deal with the god-awful shaky mess she turned into whenever anyone got a little too close.

She'd made the mistake of letting her guard down too many times before, and she'd paid the price for it. The scar on her torso was just a visual reminder of what could happen when she let people get too close.

She'd made that mistake. She'd paid the price. And she didn't have any more to offer as payment, so it was better to avoid having to do so. Because numbers didn't necessarily mean safety, and she would rather go it alone.


	4. Against the Odds

**Disclaimer_: _I own absolutely nothing related to The Walking Dead. No copyright intended here.**

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and suggestive themes.

**Note: **Rick arrives in this chapter. It will take Jenna a little time to warm up to him, but she'll get there. And, just a reminder to avoid any confusion, Shane and Lori are not making any trysts in the woods.

* * *

_"Things can fall apart, or threaten to, for many reasons, and then there's got to be a leap of faith. Ultimately, when you're at the edge, you have to go forward or backward; if you go forward, you have to jump together."_

_-Yo-Yo Ma_

* * *

Against the Odds

After an afternoon of picking mushrooms in the woods with Lori and Dusty, Jenna was starting to worry about the others who'd gone into the city. She'd expected them to have returned by the time they did, and the more she looked over toward the parked vehicles to see that they hadn't arrived, the more she wondered if they would arrive at all… Dusty had said Glenn was their "go-to-town guy," but he wasn't alone this time. Bringing more people into the city was risky—it was a task much better suited to one or two people—and Jenna was seriously starting to think that something must've gone wrong.

She did a mental checklist of who had gone. Gabe Morales seemed perfectly capable of handling himself in the city—he was smart. Jacki was an intelligent woman who seemed to handle moments of high-tension well. Merle, while being a belligerent perve, was obviously suited to survival in even the harshest of environments. But, T-Dog had also gone with them. She could only imagine that Merle's white superiority bullshit would make things much more unpleasant than they needed to be. Would that cause more vital problems for them in the city?

Glenn seemed fully capable of making it in an out of the city without a problem, so if there was a weak link, it wasn't him. She didn't know much about Andrea, but the woman was intelligent, like Jacki. Was she the type to panic at the wrong moment, though? Amy certainly was at the moment, the poor girl…

Jenna wondered if perhaps she should've said something before they left, to Glenn, at least. Warned him how problematic it could be to bring a group to scavenge in the city, though he must've known that—how many times had he been in the city?

Well, it was too late for that, in any case. All she could do now was hope they made it back safely, and that none of them returned with a bite or a scratch.

She looked up at the sky while she carried the firewood to the stack near the main fire pit, seeing that most of the rain clouds had cleared away for now. They'd had a bit of a brief downpour just a little while ago, but now the sunny skies had returned. Personally, Jenna preferred rain. She used to love hot days. But now, with all the tension of the required proximity to people who were practically strangers to each other, the heat fanned the flames of arguments, and tempers were much more likely to boil over. Heat made people rash. When people were rash, they were dangerous.

Not that it would be a problem for her much longer—if all went well.

Dusty smiled and nodded at her as she and Thao entered the camp center, and Jenna nodded and smiled back. Dusty's smile had been a little forced, and Jenna could understand why. With Jacki down in the city, her closest friend was in constant danger. She'd been upset earlier for not waking up in time to see them off.

Not far from the fire pit, Miranda was breaking up a fight between her children, who were fighting over a toy. Lori was sitting at the pit, trimming Carl's hair. Jenna didn't see Jim anywhere by the RV with Dale, where he normally would be, so she assumed he was stringing up more cans. Shane was sitting across the fire pit from Carl while he cleaned his gun, apparently keeping the child focused on conversation in order to be able to sit through the haircut.

Amy was untangling some fishing line from Dale's stash, preparing for the fishing excursion she and Andrea would take when the others returned from the city. Jenna wondered if Dale had given the stuff to her to keep her mind occupied on something other than her mounting anxiety.

Things were calm around camp, anyway. That was…a pleasant surprise.

She gave the area another quick scan anyway, just to be thorough, and resumed with stacking the firewood so it wouldn't tumble over as soon as she walked away, Thao close at her side. He hadn't left her side since he'd woken up, even when she'd gone out into the woods with Lori and Dusty, which suited her just fine. As long as Thao was within her eyesight and out of danger, she was happy. That was why she was so eager to head out, away from this camp. With just the two of them, there was less to worry about. It was the right thing for him…wasn't it? Hadn't it been so far?

"Hey, Thao!" called Louis. "Come play!" he urged, waving him over.

Thao looked up at Jenna hopefully, silently inquiring, and she looked back up to where Louis sat in front of his family's tent, playing with his toy trucks. The fight seemed to have been resolved, and Miranda was monitoring her children well. Jenna looked back down at Thao and smiled, nodding her approval.

"Go ahead," she said, jerking her head in Louis's direction. She gestured for him to stay within her sight, and he nodded before dashing off to join the other boy.

And as she watched him high-five the other boy before crouching down to play, Jenna's heart sank a bit.

Because now she knew that she'd been wrong.

What would really be best for him? Would going off alone, just the two of them really be in his best interest? Sure, maybe it was the most logical choice as far as safety went. When it came down to it, the math of survival was in her favor. But he wouldn't have other children to play with if they headed out alone… He wouldn't have this sense of normalcy that the camp provided, no matter how alien it all was to Jenna. This place was stable. Even she couldn't deny that. For a group of strangers, things were pretty calm, and everything was kept running smoothly thanks to Shane.

And now Jenna realized that taking off would take away from Thao's wellbeing in a way that she hadn't given much consideration before now.

Surviving with her had probably saved his life, but it had been pretty routine. Up until now, their existence had been little more than day-to-day survival, moving from place to place and keeping off the radar. Scavenging when necessary, running when they could, and fighting the dead when avoidance wasn't an option. Up until now, that was all Jenna had been able to provide for Thao—safety and sustenance.

But now, there was an opportunity for something more. Knowing she had the chance to let Thao enjoy a childhood…how could she possibly take that away? She couldn't. She wouldn't, and it killed her, because there was no way she was going to leave without him, and that meant she would be staying here too.

And that meant her search was over for now…she had to let it go. Was her best friend alive somewhere in Georgia? She wanted to believe so, but she knew just how slim that chance was.

Before, her long journey from Seattle to Georgia had been a journey with one goal in mind. After she'd lost her fiancé, and her family, every last one of them… As soon as she'd finished burying them in her father's backyard, she'd vowed to find Danny, her best friend since childhood. He'd been visiting family in Georgia when the outbreak hit, and after everything, he was all Jenna had left.

But she hadn't counted on the obstacles that had slowed her down along the way. The dangerous encounters that would haunt her forever. And she definitely hadn't counted on finding the little boy that would change her outlook on everything.

As much as it killed her to admit it, there was very little reason for her to believe Danny was still alive. But she knew that Thao was. He was alive and he was right there in front of her…and she owed him absolutely everything.

Her survival wasn't about herself anymore, it hadn't been for weeks. And it was time to stop behaving like it was. Thao needed her to make the right calls, no matter how hard they were to make. And as much as she felt like a traitor for giving up on Danny, as much as it ripped at her heart, she knew that this was the right call for Thao. She would just find a way to live with it. She'd learned that she could live with a lot, and this was just another thing to add to that list.

If Merle came back with a car, the cigarettes were his—he'd earned them. Jim could use it for parts and syphon the fuel for the generator. Car or no car, she'd made her decision. Or, rather, Thao had made the decision for the both of them.

Needing a distraction to keep the regret from overwhelming her, she looked around, searching for inspiration, and spotted Dale working on the engine of his RV. Perfect. That was just what she needed—an engine to get lost in and focus on. He looked like he could use a hand anyway, it couldn't have been easy on his back to be standing hunched over at that angle for so long at his age, could it?

She looked over at Thao, seeing the two boys squatting in the dirt, pushing their trucks around, very engrossed in their game, and smiled. It was good to see him being a child. He was safe under Miranda's watch, and he was within Jenna's sight anyway, so she made her way across the camp's center to the RV.

"Need a hand, Dale?" she asked as she approached the old man.

He looked up at her in puzzlement, and she smirked slightly.

"I don't know a lot about cars, but I know enough to be able to remove a radiator hose," she told him. "Your hands must be killing you—I can do it for you."

He smiled then, and nodded. "Thank you," he said, handing over the screwdriver. "Been workin on the damn engine all morning."

"No problem," she said, looking at the engine a little more closely. "Jesus, this thing's more duct tape than hose…" she mused, examining it with her fingers before setting to unscrewing it.

"Yeah, no kidding," said Dale with a laugh, wiping his hands with an oil-covered rag. "Can't exactly make a run to the automotive store these days, unfortunately."

She laughed lightly under her breath, and he entered the RV to get something to eat while she continued to work on removing the radiator hose from its place. She glanced over at Thao again out of habit. Seeing that he was okay, she returned her gaze to the engine and contented herself with keeping tabs on his safety by listening to him play.

Footsteps at her left let her know someone was approaching, and she glanced up to see Tyler making his way toward her, much to her vexation. She returned her gaze to the engine, not wanting to encourage him. Not that he needed much encouragement. If it wasn't for his overconfidence and one-track mind, she might've liked the kid. His curly hair and dimples reminded her of her own little brother. All fondness she might've felt for Tyler was usually tossed out the window as soon as he opened his mouth, however.

"City girl," he greeted familiarly—too familiarly. "You can fix cars, too?" he asked as he leaned against the RV next to her.

"I'm full of surprises," she replied simply, not looking up at him.

He laughed. "I'll say. I would've never guessed you were hidin _that_ under those baggy clothes of yours," he commented appreciatively, and her stomach roiled a bit.

"You see that I've got a screwdriver in my hand and a machete tied to my belt, right?" she asked flatly, knowing she didn't need to elaborate for him to know it was a warning.

He just laughed again and shifted a little closer to her. Even though she wasn't making eye contact, she was very aware of his proximity. If he made one move, she would be ready to counter it in whatever way necessary.

"You a lesbian?" he asked curiously.

She smirked and pocketed the screw she'd just loosened so as not to lose it, hoping he would just go away, and soon.

"I mean, it's cool if you are," he went on, oblivious to her indifference. "I got no problem with it, or anythin. Just be real disappointin if you were, ya know?" he finished slyly.

"If I say 'yes' will you go away?" she asked dryly, working on the last screw.

"I'm just wonderin is all, city girl," he said, sounding amused. "I mean, you came here wearin nothin but guy's clothes. You play with guns an' knives, an' you fix up cars. You gotta wonder, ya know?"

"Have you ever shot a gun before?" she asked, still not looking up at him. "BB guns don't count, by the way."

He was silent for a moment—which she savored—before answering. "No."

"Do you know anything about cars?" she questioned.

"Well…"

"Are you gay?" she asked, finally looking at him as she straightened up, worn radiator hose in hand, tucking the screwdriver into her back pocket.

He laughed again after a moment. "Alright, maybe I'm bein an ass."

"Oh, you're aware of that, then?" she commented, wiping her hands on the same oily rag.

Dale exited the RV then, and Jenna was relieved. Perhaps his presence would deter Tyler from his obnoxious questioning. She nodded at him and he smiled seeing the freed radiator hose in her hand.

"So, does that mean you're not a lesbian?" Tyler inquired as she handed the hose, the screws, and the screwdriver over to Dale, who gave Tyler a bemused expression.

Jenna gave him a long look. "Whether I am or not isn't gonna make a difference to you."

She turned around then, not wanting to stick around to listen to anything else he had to say, and was about to make her way over to Thao when a noise snatched her attention. A noise that definitely didn't belong in the area—a car alarm.

Everyone around camp stopped what they were doing to try and get a glimpse of the approaching vehicle—and it was approaching, according the rapidly increasing volume of the screeching alarm. Thao ran over to her immediately, grasping her belt. She put an arm around him out of habit and craned her neck to try and see down the dirt road that led to their campsite.

"Talk to me, Dale," Shane called as he neared the RV, shotgun in hand.

"Is it them?" Amy asked hopefully. "Are they back?"

Everyone drew nearer to the camp's center, wanting to know who exactly was approaching, while Dale peered through his binoculars.

"I'll be damned," said Dale after moment.

"What is it?" asked Dusty, coming to stand beside Jenna and Thao.

"Stolen car is my guess," Dale answered, lowering his binoculars.

The blaring alarm grew louder and louder, and Jenna looked around at the trees, wondering how many walkers had heard the noise. The damn car could have led any number of them straight to the camp for all they knew.

After a few moments a red Dodge Challenger could be seen as it sped toward the camp. When it skidded to a halt next to Shane's Jeep, she recognized Glenn to be the driver.

Everyone moved toward the very audible car as Glenn got out of the driver's seat to greet them. There was no one else in the car, and that definitely didn't explain the goofy grin on Glenn's face. Where was everyone else? And why the hell had he driven all the way to the rest of them with that alarm blaring?

"Holy crap—turn that damn thing off!" yelled Dale.

Glenn put his arms up in a helpless gesture. "I don't know how!" he said and, unbelievably, he was laughing.

"Pop the hood, please," said Shane, not at all amused, standing in front of the Challenger.

"My sister!" demanded Amy immediately, grabbing Glenn by the shoulders. "Andrea—where is she? Is she okay?"

"Pop the damn hood, please," Shane said again, and that time it was more of a command.

Meanwhile, the alarm continued to screech loudly, and Amy badgered Glenn for answers while everyone began to panic slightly.

"Okay—just a second—" Glenn tried over the constant noise.

Jenna rolled her eyes and moved toward the car.

"Pop the damn hood, please," yelled Shane, slamming his hand down on the hood of the car to get Glenn's attention.

"Move," Jenna said, pushing past Glenn and sliding into the driver's seat to pop the hood.

"Is she okay?" Amy asked Glenn again. "Is she alright? Did she get out of the city?"

"Yeah, yeah, she's alright," Glenn insisted, speaking loudly.

"Is she coming back?"

"Yes!"

"Why isn't she with you?" Amy demanded, and finally, Jim managed to stop the alarm. "Where is she? She's okay?"

"Yes," Glenn said again, putting his hands up to calm her. "She's fine, everybody is." He paused for a moment and then added, "Well…Merle, not so much."

Jenna's heart dropped. "What?" she asked, shutting the car door as she stood beside it.

"You crazy—drivin this wailin bastard up here?" Shane demanded, giving Glenn a hard look. "You tryin to draw every walker for miles?"

Dale looked around the area. "I think we're okay," he mused.

Shane turned to look at him. "You call bein stupid okay?"

Dale shrugged. "Well, that alarm was echoing all over these hills. Hard to pinpoint the source," he reasoned. Shane gave him a long look. "I'm not arguing," Dale defended, "I'm just saying." He turned to Glenn. "It wouldn't hurt you to think things through a little more carefully next time, would it?"

Glenn looked around at them all nervously. "Sorry," he said. "Got a cool car," he added hopefully.

Jenna looked down at it and shrugged. "Eh," she said, unimpressed, and nudged him with her shoulder, smirking at him.

The sound of approaching tires caught everyone's attention, and Jenna turned around see a white cube van driving up to them now. She wondered what had happened to their car.

It rolled to a stop and they heard the back door slide open. Andrea walked out from behind it, and she and Amy ran to each other, wrapping their arms around each other in a tight embrace when they met in the middle. The Morales family joined together in a cheerful embrace at Gabe's return. T-Dog walked up to the others, and Jenna noticed that he had drops of blood staining the front of his t-shirt.

Jenna looked back as Thao came to her side again, and noticed Lori leading Carl away from the scene, both of them looking downcast. It must have been hard for Carl to see Louis and Eliza so overjoyed to see their father's safe return, of course.

"Jacki!" Dusty breathed in overjoyed relief when she'd walked out from behind the van into view, and rushed toward the older woman, throwing her arms around her. "Oh, God—I thought y'all were dead," she sighed, squeezing Jacki tightly.

Jacki laughed lightly, obviously just as relieved and elated to have made it back as Dusty was. "Almost were, honey," she muttered.

Jenna moved forward with Thao and embraced the woman as soon as Dusty released her. When they parted, she hoisted Thao up onto her hip, hugging him tightly and kissing his hair.

"You made it back!" he rejoiced cheerfully.

Jacki laughed again. "We did," she cheered back, and they shared a high-five before she set him back onto his feet at Jenna's side, and she looked over at the Morales family.

"Told you I'd be back, didn't I?" said Gabe to Miranda as they parted, and he picked Eliza up into his arms.

"You are a welcome sight," said Dale happily, clapping Gabe on the back. "I thought we had lost you folks for sure."

"How'd y'all get outta there, anyway?" Shane asked.

"New guy," said Glenn. "He got us out."

Jenna frowned, wondering who this new guy was, and where exactly he was. She didn't see him exit the van with the others.

"New guy?" Shane inquired.

"Yeah," Gabe answered then. "Crazy vato that just got into town." He turned back toward the van. "Hey, helicopter boy—come say 'hello'!" he urged.

Jenna kept an arm around Thao as she waited, and then a man in a cop's uniform exited the vehicle, approaching the group slower than the rest.

"Guy's a cop," said Gabe to Shane, "like you."

Suddenly, the man stopped in his tracks, and his eyes widened in apparent shock as his mouth hung open in awe. Jenna frowned again, wondering what he was so surprised at, and turned to try and see what it was he was looking at.

"Dad!" Carl yelled, pure elation on his face as he sprinted toward the man. "Dad!"

The man looked close to breaking down into tears as he moved toward Carl, and the boy collided with him roughly. The man caught him, and they nearly collapsed to the ground as they embraced, arms wrapped tightly around each other. Jenna looked on in awe as father and son were reunited under impossible circumstances. Gently, she smoothed her hand up and down Thao's back soothingly, wishing it were possible for him to experience such a blessing, but knowing it wasn't. All he had was a picture to cling to.

The man picked Carl up and carried him over to Lori, who had been standing frozen with shock up until that point. She wrapped her arms around her husband, her eyes wide with disbelief.

After a long moment, they released him, and he approached Shane. The two of them embraced like brothers, clapping each other on the back.

"Thank you," the man said in a choked voice. "Thank you, for taking care of them, Shane."

Jenna looked on at the family that was once again intact, despite everything, and smiled slightly. _Maybe there's more to hope for after all,_ she thought, looking down and tracing a finger over her Mighty Mouse tattoo.


	5. Right and Wrong

**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing related to The Walking Dead. No copyright intended here.**

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and suggestive themes.

* * *

_"The truth is rarely pure and never simple."_

_-Oscar Wilde_

* * *

Right and Wrong

Everyone was situated around one of the three campfires at the camp center, having just finished a modest dinner of mostly canned beans. Jenna sat with her back leaning against a log beside Dusty, with Thao in her lap, the three of them sharing a blanket provided by Shane. Jacki and T-Dog were at Dusty's right, Andrea and Amy sharing a blanket nearby. Shane sat at Jenna's left on the ground, and Dale sat at his other side. Glenn sat beside Rick, who was across the fire from Jenna and Thao, his son lying back in his lap, with Lori tucked beneath his arm.

The Grimes family had hardly separated since Rick's miraculous return, and they didn't seem inclined to be apart for quite some time. Jenna couldn't blame them. Would she let go of any of her family members if they showed up? _Hell no._

Everyone around that fire was silent while they listened to Rick's story, mesmerized by the sheer improbability of it all. Still, improbable though it was, it only gave Jenna hope.

"Disoriented," said Rick to them. "That's what comes closest…disoriented. Fear, confusion, all of that, but…disoriented comes closest."

"Words can be meager things," muttered Dale, setting down his mug of water on the ground in front of him. "Sometimes they fall short."

Jenna smirked slightly in agreement; when it came to literature, they were normally on the same page. She would've never guessed that the old man with the fisherman's hat and the RV who likes to hunt on the weekends would be a fan of William Faulkner or Charles Dickens.

"I felt like I'd been ripped outta my life," Rick continued after a moment, "put somewhere else. For a while I thought I was trapped in some…coma dream. Somethin I might not wake up from, ever…"

"Mom said you died…" murmured Carl, gazing up at his father in confusion.

Lori looked up at Rick, regret and remorse in her face as she stroked Carl's hair back gently. Rick smiled at her understandingly, and looked back down at his son.

"She had every reason to believe that," he assured Carl. "Don't you ever doubt it."

Lori glanced over to Jenna's left, where Shane sat—he'd been mostly silent all the while—and for some reason, Jenna thought she detected a hint of…blame in her eyes. Only that made absolutely no sense to her. Did she blame Shane for taking her and Carl out of the city for safety, while unbeknownst to them, Rick was still alive? She had no real reason to blame him for that, but Jenna knew that in this chaotic state of the world, it was often hard to see reason.

"When things started to get really bad," said Lori, shifting her eyes toward her husband again, "they told me at the hospital that they were gonna medevac you and the other patients to Atlanta…and it never happened…"

"Well, I'm not surprised, after Atlanta fell," said Rick. "And from the look of that hospital, it got overrun."

"Yeah, looks don't deceive," said Shane, speaking up finally. "I barely got them out, ya know?"

"I can't tell you how grateful I am to you, Shane," said Rick sincerely, locking eyes with his friend. "Can't begin to express it."

Lori shot another blameful look at Shane, before casting her eyes downward, remaining silent. Jenna was baffled by this behavior—surely the woman could see past the surface?—but just looked down at Thao's head resting on her shoulder, smoothing her fingers through his hair gently. She didn't want to draw attention to the situation, whatever it was, and it was none of her business anyway.

"You don't have to, man," Shane assured Rick.

"There go those words fallin short again," said Dale. "_Paltry_ things."

Jenna had to smirk again.

Suddenly, a muffled thud followed by the sound of wood crackling and fire popping made Jenna spin her head around to peer over her left shoulder. Over at the Peletier family fire, Ed slumped back into his foldout chair, leaning back lazily while his wife and daughter huddled on a log together, wrapped in a blanket. It seemed that Ed had just tossed another log into the fire—disregarding the rules, yet again. Jenna suppressed the urge to shoot out a snide comment.

"Hey, Ed?" Shane asked mildly, also turning around to look at the Peletiers. "You wanna rethink that log?"

Ed didn't bother to turn around in his seat. "It's cold, man," he said simply, as though he truly saw no issue at hand.

_Don't play stupid, Tubby, _Jenna thought contemptuously. _It's starting to rub off on you. _

"Cold don't change the rules, does it?" Shane asked, working to keep his tone mild. "Keep our fires low, just embers so we can't be seen from a distance, right?"

Even Thao could detect the change in Shane's tone, however, and turned his head to peer up first at him, then Jenna inquiringly. She smoothed his hair gently, soothingly, giving him a small smile to let him know everything was alright.

"Said it's cold," Ed repeated, more of a bite to his voice. "Whyon't you mind your own damn business for once?"

Dusty spat out a breath, throwing a look of contempt in Ed's direction. The others remained silent, and most of them had looked downward, as though pretending they couldn't hear the dispute after all—none of them wanted any part in this.

Thankfully, Shane seemed to have had enough, for he rose to his feet and strode over to the Peletier's fire with purpose.

"Ed," he began in a subdued tone, coming to a stop at the man's right side, looking down at him warningly. "You sure you wanna have this conversation, man?"

Though Ed stayed in his utterly relaxed posture, glaring up at Shane, Jenna knew that he would buckle one way or another. Ed was a big guy, there was no arguing that, but so was Shane, and his size was not a result of an accumulation of beer-belly fat. Shane would knock Ed's lights out with relative ease if given enough reason.

Ed huffed, scratching at his ear, and nodded at his wife. "Go on," he said to her. "Pull the damn thing out." Carol seemed to hesitate for a moment. "Go on," he ordered more sharply.

It was Jenna's turn to spit out a breath of disgust, and she felt absolute revulsion for Ed as she watched Carol jump up out of her seat to do as instructed, and Sophia hunch her shoulders slightly, as though trying to make herself as small and unnoticeable as possible.

"Naw, naw," said Shane in a much gentler tone of voice, putting a hand up to stop Carol. "I got it, don't worry."

Carol hovered by the fire as Shane knelt down to pull out the log, tossing the flaming thing to the side before stomping it out. She reclaimed her seat with her daughter then, pulling the blanket around herself hurriedly.

He moved over toward the two of them, completely ignoring Ed, and crouched down.

"Hey, Carol, Sophia…how're y'all this evenin?" he asked them gently, sounding much like a concerned officer, Jenna noted.

"Fine," said Carol immediately. "We're just fine."

"Okay," said Shane, nodding.

Carol looked over at her husband and then back toward Shane. "S-Sorry…about the fire…" she began.

"No, no, no," said Shane in that gentle tone, putting up a hand lightly to stop her. "No apology needed," he assured her, and gave her and Sophia a kind smile. "Y'all have a good night, okay?"

Carol nodded while Sophia ducked her head, picking nervously at the hem of the blanket. "Thank you," said Carol in almost a whisper.

Shane nodded to her and then rose to stand again, shooting Ed a scathing look. "Appreciate the cooperation," he said flatly as he passed the man, making his way back to the others.

There was a roll of soft thunder overhead, and Jenna peered up at the shadowy sky, searching for any trace of lighting. She loved thunderstorms, but she wasn't sure what Thao thought of them yet. He didn't seem bothered by the noise so far, for he leaned back comfortably in her arms, his eyes on the red hot embers in the fire pit.

"Have you given any thought to Daryl Dixon?" Dale asked Shane as he reclaimed his seat on the ground between he and Jenna. "He won't be happy to hear his brother was left behind."

"I'll tell him," said T-Dog before Shane could answer. "I dropped the key, it's on me."

"I cuffed him," said Rick. "That makes it mine."

"Guys, it's not a competition," said Glenn. "I don't mean to bring race into this, but it might sound better comin from a white guy."

There was truth to those words, and no one could dispute them.

Even so, T-Dog was not swayed. "I did what I did," he said after a moment. "Hell if I'm gonna hide from it."

"We could lie," suggested Amy hopefully.

"Or tell the truth," sighed Andrea. "Merle was out of control. Something had to be done, or he'd have gotten us killed. Your husband did what was necessary," she said to Lori, "and if Merle got left behind, it is _nobody's_ fault but Merle's."

Dale looked highly skeptical. "And that's what we tell Daryl?" he asked doubtfully. "I don't see him takin that well, do you?"

Andrea sighed again, shaking her head.

"_Should_ he?" Jenna asked flatly in a mutter. "His brother was left behind—there's no way this is going to be a _rational_ discussion."

"You weren't there," said Andrea sharply, bristling automatically. "You don't know how close we came to _dying_ because of him."

"You're right, I wasn't," Jenna replied just as sharply, though in a more quiet tone so as not to startle Thao. She locked her eyes with the older woman, not backing down. "I'm not saying you guys didn't do what needed to be done, so climb back out of my throat. All I'm saying is, you can't tell Daryl that you all left his _brother_ in walker-infested Atlanta cuffed to a roof and expect him to be okay with that. I doubt any of us would be, no matter the circumstances. I know I wouldn't."

With that, she let her glare linger on Andrea for a moment or two before turning her eyes back to the embers, stroking Thao's hair gently. In the corner of her eye, Jenna could see that Dusty was trying not to look too pleased. She wasn't much of a fan of Andrea's, and had told Jenna the day before that she was "snooty." Jenna wondered how often they bickered.

"I was scared," said T-Dog after a moment, attracting everyone's attention again, "and I ran. I'm not ashamed of it."

"We were all scared, we all ran," said Jacki, puzzled. "What's your point?"

"I stopped long enough to chain that door," T-Dog explained, looking down at the embers unseeingly. "Staircase is narrow…maybe half a dozen walkers can squeeze against it at any one time. Not enough to break through—not that chain, not that padlock. My point…Dixon's _alive_, and he's still up there, handcuffed on that roof."

Jenna's eyes widened slightly as understanding set in. Merle was stuck to the top of a roof, and trapped there…

Merle Dixon may have given people a lot of reasons not to like him—herself included. He was rude, crass, sexist, racist, and selfish. But he was straightforward and honest, brutally. He held true to his beliefs, even when they were not shared with the majority. And he'd kick anyone's teeth in if they tried to mess with his little brother, though Daryl hardly needed the protection. Merle Dixon was a prick, that was for certain—but he didn't deserve to die that way…

"That's on us," said T-Dog tensely, and got to his feet, leaving the rest of them staring around at each other with wide eyes.

From what the others had said about the trip into the city, Merle really did earn himself a good ass-kicking. And keeping him cuffed to the roof while they figured out a way to escape was probably the safest way to go for a belligerent prick who was high as a kite. But leaving him stranded on that rooftop…

Jenna closed her eyes, swallowing that. The world was harsh, and the line that divided right from wrong was blurry at best. But this definitely felt wrong.


	6. Hot Water

**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing related to The Walking Dead. No copyright intended here.**

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and suggestive themes.

**Note: **Things are a little out of order here, but bear with me, please, and sit back and enjoy the show while Ed receives the beat-down he's had coming. ;)

* * *

_"If you go looking for hot water, don't act shocked when you get burned a little bit."_

_-The White Stripes _

* * *

Hot Water

"I'm beginning to question the division of labor around here," said Jacki the following morning, setting a basket of clothes down beside her as she knelt down beside Amy at the shore.

Jenna followed her gaze to see Shane and Carl having a good time on the other side of the quarry, playing in the water, and laughed. At least someone was having a good time. Whenever Daryl returned from his hunting trip, they would have to break the news to him of his brother's disappearance. Merle was an asshole, there was no denying that. But there was a little more there beneath the surface, Jenna was sure, that nobody really noticed, because he sure as hell didn't like to let it show. He was a lot of things, but he was also a protective older brother. As much as he and Daryl butted heads, he did care about his brother's wellbeing. He showed it poorly, trying to make him into his warped idea of what a man was supposed to be, but he did care. So there was some semblance of a redeeming quality there.

She looked down at the flannel shirt she was scrubbing, working out what looked like an oil stain, and caught sight of her tattoo again. She'd vowed to focus on Thao, and she was going to keep that promise. But seeing the Grimes family's miraculous reunion made her wonder how slim Danny's chances of survival really were…

"Can someone explain to me how the women wound up doin all the Hattie McDaniel work?" asked Jacki, setting a freshly cleaned pile of clothing in a basket.

Amy laughed. "The world ended, didn't you get the memo?"

"Back to basics now," said Dusty on Jenna's right, and Jenna smirked with her.

Carol glanced over her shoulder a little nervously, and Jenna followed her gaze to find Ed leaning back against his car, smoking.

"Just the way it is," she said lightly, handing a cleaned shirt to Jacki.

Jenna chose not to comment while she thought daggers at Ed.

"I do miss my old Maytag back at home," said Carol with a small sigh.

"I miss my coffee maker with that dual-drip filter and built-in grinder, honey," said Jacki, smiling reminiscently as she wrung out the shirt she'd just washed.

"I miss my Benz, and the SatNav," said Andrea longingly.

"I miss my computer…and texting," said Amy with a touch of nostalgia in her voice.

"I miss my iPod," supplied Dusty with a heavy sigh, "and all one thousand three hundred and fifty-two songs it had." Jenna smirked slightly. "What about you, Jen?" Dusty asked.

None of them were listing the things that they truly ached for. Rather, they were focusing on pining over the little, meaningless things, because that was a hell of a lot easier than recounting all that they had truly lost. No one wanted to talk about who they'd lost. So, Jenna played along.

"I miss music," she said, and truthfully, she did. "The old Baldwin piano in my apartment."

"I miss my vibrator," said Andrea suddenly, and they all shared a laugh.

"Me too," admitted Carol after they'd calmed down, only to set them all laughing even more exuberantly.

"What's so funny?" asked another voice from behind them, and they turned around to see Ed walking up to them, much to Jenna's irritation. She hoped he kept his distance.

"Just swapping war stories, Ed," replied Andrea as they all settled down again.

Jenna eyed his movements as he drew nearer, now standing above them all, far too close for her liking, the brush slowing to a stop in her hand as she watched him. He looked down at them all and took the cigarette from his mouth again, blowing out a cloud of smoke. His expression was clearly displeased. Jenna just rolled her eyes and shared a knowing look with Dusty. She just hoped he decided to leave them alone, and soon. She wasn't sure how much tolerance she would have if he pushed her too far, and she didn't want to start a fight with Carol's husband right in front of her, no matter how much of a scumbag he was.

Andrea rolled her eyes and set down her brush in exasperation, looking up at him.

"Problem, Ed?" she asked pointedly.

"Nothin that concerns you," he shot back, glaring at her. He turned his gaze back down to Carol, who seemed to be trying to attract as little attention as possible. "You outta focus on your work," he told her, and she risked a glance up at him only to see that the look of disapproval had returned. "This ain't no comedy club."

Carol turned her gaze back to the clothes she was washing, bowing her head slightly out of obedience and shame. Jenna's stomach roiled and a flare of anger burned through her. Something needed to be done about Ed. They couldn't just turn a blind eye and pretend they didn't know what went on when no one else was around. She decided to talk to Shane about it later, and see what he had to say about it. If the others agreed, and it was likely they would, then maybe something could be done to help Carol and Sophia. Jenna was really getting sick of seeing Ed treat them like trash, and watching them scamper and cower away from him like frightened, helpless animals. It was demeaning.

Ed continued to stand above them, looking down on all of them as they worked under much less pleasant conditions. He burned through the rest of his cigarette and lit up another, never moving from his watchful position. Jenna was really having a hard time not saying something to him, but she knew it would be safer to keep her mouth shut. Still, it was bad enough that he walked all over his wife and daughter, but now he was making the rest of them feel threatened by his very presence.

She was extremely glad that Thao was up at camp with the Morales family. She knew that if Ed were to threaten Thao in any way, there would be absolutely no hope of keeping her temper reigned in.

Andrea rolled her eyes eventually and stood up, looking like she'd had enough.

"Hey, Ed, I'll tell you what," she said, walking up to him, a soaked, half-cleaned shirt in her hand.

Jenna watched her movements, knowing she was getting dangerously close and not in a good position to do so, considering they were at a bit of a slope. One good shove from Ed, and she would be sent tumbling back into the water.

"You don't like how your laundry's done, you are welcome to pitch in and do it yourself," Andrea continued. "Here," she said, and tossed a shirt to him.

He promptly tossed it back at her, and the wet material slapped into her chest. Jenna, Jacki, Dusty, and Amy rose to their feet immediately, dropping the brushes and clothing. This was starting to escalate, and it was only a matter of time before it reached a boiling point. Jenna wondered exactly how short Ed's fuse was, and deliberated stepping closer to Andrea and getting in between them.

"That ain't my job, missy," said Ed, giving Andrea an obnoxiously superior glare.

Andrea looked livid and tossed the shirt down onto the dirt and gravel, obviously not having expected him to treat her the same way he treated his wife.

"What is your job, Ed?" Andrea demanded. "Sitting on your ass, smoking cigarettes?"

He glared at her. "Sure as hell ain't listenin to some uppity, smart-mouth bitch, I tell ya what," he said.

Jenna just let out a breath of wry laughter, glaring back at him.

His gaze turned to his wife, who had remained kneeling down by the water, staying quiet. "C'mon," he commanded, jerking his head. "Let's go."

Carol rose to her feet obediently, and the look of absolute shame that permeated Carol's entire demeanor was what urged a response from Jenna. She stepped to the side, blocking Carol's path before she could get to her husband.

"She doesn't need to go anywhere with you, Ed," said Jenna, glaring up at him.

"I say it's none of your business," Ed replied, and looked over her to Carol. "C'mon, now," he threatened, gesturing for her to hurry up, "you heard me."

Carol moved to weave between them to obey her husband's demands. Amy and Andrea reached out to hold her back, but she waved their hands away gently, looking at them imploringly, her eyes rimmed with unshed tears.

"Please," she said quietly to them, "it doesn't matter."

"No, it does matter, Carol," said Andrea, turning and putting her hand on Carol's shoulder to stop her.

"Hey," said Ed, taking a step closer to Andrea.

Jenna responded with a step closer to him, which he didn't notice.

"Don't think I won't knock you on your ass," threatened Ed as Andrea turned around to face him again, "just 'cause you're some college-educated cooze, alright?" He turned to his wife again. "Now you come on now, or you gonna regret it later."

"So she can show up with fresh bruises later, Ed?" asked Jacki angrily.

"Yeah, we've seen em," said Dusty, scowling at him.

Ed just laughed and shook his head. "Stay outta this," he said to them, and then turned to Carol again, who was still struggling to make her way past the halting arms of Amy and Andrea. "Now come on!" he threatened. "You know what?" he said to the rest of them. "This ain't none of y'all's business. Y'all don't wanna keep proddin the bull here, okay? Now I am done talkin. Come on!"

He grabbed Carol by the arm and Jenna reacted immediately and incredibly recklessly, side-stepping so that she'd placed herself between them.

"No way in hell," she said to both Carol and Ed, putting her arm around Carol's middle and pushing her back behind her while Amy and Andrea worked to pull her back.

"You don't tell me what!" bellowed Ed furiously. "I tell you what!"

So fast that she didn't even have time to attempt to block it, his arm swung out as he backhanded her across the face. The impact was enough to send her spinning around and onto her hands and knees in the gravel while the other women screamed in shock and outrage.

"Ed, no!" Carol pled desperately.

"You don't tell me what!" Ed snarled again, and the sound of another strike told Jenna that he'd hit his wife that time.

And she'd reached her boiling point.

Before Dusty could get a grip on her elbow to help her up, Jenna was on her feet and lunged at Ed in fury. She collided with him, driving her shoulder into his middle, and the impact was just enough for him to stagger backward. He had a strong grip on Carol's arm, but before he could pull her with him, Jenna side-stepped again and used her body to keep the older woman back, placing herself between them again.

Ed managed to keep his footing, and Jenna struggled to keep Carol from moving toward him, blocking her with her body still. She didn't see it coming when Ed drove his fist into her stomach, and was unprepared for the forceful impact.

Pain exploded in her core, radiating outward, and she would have buckled had it not been for Carol, who held her up. The others were screaming at Ed and working together to try and shove him away.

"Let go! Get off her!" Amy yelled at him, holding Carol's shoulders and pulling her away while the others rounded on Ed. Their efforts weren't enough for the much larger man, however, and Jenna was in no condition to do anything more. Her stomach felt like it had just been crushed by a bowling ball.

"Come here!" Ed yelled at Carol, struggling to pull her out of their grasp.

"Get over here," demanded a rough voice, and suddenly, Ed was yanked backward and away from the rest of them.

Jenna looked up to see Shane dragging Ed away from them while Dusty and Jacki moved to help her stand up straight. She nodded and brushed their hands away when she was upright, and watched as Shane threw Ed onto the ground a short distance away from them.

"No!" Carol cried, and moved to get to her husband.

"No, Carol, it's okay," said Amy as she and Andrea held her still.

"It's okay," Andrea soothed, wrapping her arms around Carol and holding her close while she cried.

Before Ed could sit up straight, Shane slammed a fist into his face with unbelievable impact. Jenna knew that if he'd hit him in the bridge of the nose, Ed would have been out cold. And he continued to hit him, punching his face in until it was becoming more of a bloody pulp than flesh and facial features. Carol cried as she looked on helplessly, blood running from her own lip.

"Shane, stop!" the others yelled when it was clear that Ed was down for the count.

While Jenna knew that Ed certainly deserved a good beating, she could also see that this was traumatic for his wife, and that Shane was nowhere near close to stopping any time soon. And he needed to stop soon, unless he wanted a dead man on his hands.

"Shane," she called to him. He didn't respond, but continued to slam his fist into Ed's face while he lay helplessly on the ground.

He wouldn't be stopped by words, she could see. So she moved forward, shaking off Dusty and Jacki's restricting hands. When she reached him, she put her hands on Shane's shoulders and struggled to push him back.

"Shane," she said, still struggling. "Shane, stop—you'll kill him," she said intently.

Finally, he seemed to hear her, and he leaned back a bit, though more to avoid hurting her than because her pushing was having any real effect.

He locked eyes with her for a tense moment, and she nodded, knowing he'd heard her at least, and she stepped back again.

Shane grabbed Ed by the face and lifted it up. "You put your hands on your wife, your little girl, or anyone else in this camp one more time, I will not stop next time. Do you hear me? _Do you hear me?_"

"Yes," Ed managed in a gurgled groan.

"I'll beat you to death, Ed," Shane promised him, and dropped his face so that his head fell back to the ground. "I'll beat you to death," he repeated, giving him one final, devastating blow to the face with his fist.

He got to his feet and gave Ed a swift kick to the ribs before stepping back and looking over at Carol, who was sobbing and reaching out to her husband, still held back by the others. Andrea released Carol, who went running to her husband and dropped to his side immediately, holding his face gently and crying over him.

"I'm so sorry, Ed, I'm sorry…" she sobbed.

Jenna shook her head and looked back up at Shane, who was glaring down at Ed with undisguised disgust. He met her gaze and inclined his head toward the road that led up to camp, gesturing for her to follow him.

Deciding that she'd really rather not stick around to watch Ed be consoled by the woman he'd just smacked across the face, she obliged and walked with Shane away from the quarry.

"Girl, are you outta your mind?" he asked when they were a distance away.

Jenna let out a breath of humorless laughter as they stopped, and looked around at the rocky landscape rather than at him.

"What the hell were you thinkin, runnin at him like that? Are you tryin to get yourself killed?" he asked when she didn't answer. She just shook her head. "Jenna, c'mon…talk to me. What were you thinkin?"

She finally raised her eyes to him, only to find concern on his face. That threw her for a moment, but she recovered herself and answered.

"I was thinking, that if that son of a bitch wants to sit on his ass all day, then fine," she began, reigning in her temper. "But if he wants to scold the rest of us while we're working because he doesn't want his wife to have too much fun, and if he wants to get violent with her, then I'm sure as hell not just gonna stand there and watch it happen. He's a scumbag, and I've been waiting for someone to put him in his place since I got here. Got tired of waiting—thank you, by the way."

Shane had been watching her in interest while she ranted.

"Answer enough for you?" she asked.

He nodded and then reached out toward her. "You alright?" he asked, turning her face by the chin to get a better look.

She flicked her head back. Proximity was still a bit of an issue.

"I'm fine," she assured him.

"Your lip's bleedin," he informed her contrarily.

She brought her fingers to her bottom lip. The warm wetness and the sting of contact told her that he was right—Ed had busted her lip. She wiped the blood away and looked at her hand, seeing a small smear of red.

"Barely," she said, unimpressed, and wiped the blood on her jeans. "You should be more worried about your hand," she added, nodding at his bloodied knuckles.

He looked down at it for a second, and then up at her again. "Nice try," he noted somewhat amusedly, and she smirked slightly. "You outta be more worried about your ribs—that was one hell of a hit you took."

She nodded that time, running a hand over her sore middle as they began walking again. "Bastard packs a punch," she admitted. "Still doesn't hit as hard as my sister, though," she added, and they both laughed after a moment.


	7. Family Matters

**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing related to The Walking Dead. No copyright intended here.**

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and suggestive themes.

**Note: **Jenna has a bit of a Napoleon Complex. It's a short person thing.

And now...it's time for Daryl to find out what happened to Merle. Duck and cover, folks.

* * *

_"And though she be but little, she is fierce."_

_William Shakespeare_

* * *

Family Matters

Jenna, having cleaned away any remaining blood from her lip, was glad that she wasn't attracting much attention from the others anymore. Most of them had heard by now what had happened down at the quarry, and all of them looked at her in question and concern when she passed, which was really grating. Thankfully, Shane had assured most of them that she was just fine before he'd gone back down to the quarry for a water run. Now she made her way across the damp ground—it had been quite the thunderstorm last night—to where Glenn was watching Dale, Jim, and Gabe pick apart the Challenger for fuel and spare parts. He looked thoroughly displeased by the whole situation, and his face was so glum that Jenna felt a bit sorry for him.

"Look at em," he said to Jenna as she came to stand at his left, jutting his chin in the direction of the Dodge. "_Vultures_," he muttered as Rick, who had changed from his sheriff's uniform into old jeans and a plain white t-shirt, came to stand at his other side. "Yeah, go on, strip it clean," he griped to them.

Jenna smirked slightly. "Generators need every drop of fuel they can get," she reminded him. "We've got no power without it," she finished, patting his shoulder lightly.

He looked far from mollified, however. "Yeah…thought I'd get to drive it at least a few more days…"

"Maybe we'll get to steal another one someday," said Rick, clapping him on the back before leaving to go and talk to his wife, who was hanging clothes on the line.

The sound of tires rolling over dirt and gravel announced Shane's arrival, and she and Glenn stepped back a bit to be out of the way of his fast-approaching Jeep Wrangler. It skidded to a halt near the other cars, and Shane cut the ignition.

"Water's here, y'all," he announced, getting out of the vehicle. "Jus' a reminder—boil before use."

As Jenna and Glenn moved forward with the others to grab a jug of water for their own respective units, she noticed Rick discreetly waving Shane over to him. Lori looked highly displeased about something, and Jenna wondered if it had anything to do with Merle. Leaving him behind in Atlanta, and knowing he was still alive and cuffed to a roof couldn't have been sitting much easier on his mind than it was on hers.

She'd just brought the fuel container-turned-water jug to the tent she shared with Thao and Dusty when a loud, shrill scream ripped through the area, startling everyone. Her eyes darted over to the Morales' tent, where Miranda had closed quick ranks around her children, Thao amongst them. _Safe._

With that, she sprinted in the direction of the scream after the others who'd already headed that way.

"Mom!" Carl's voice cried from the trees a moment later.

"Carl?" Lori called frantically as she and Rick ran.

They continued to run, Jenna catching up to them steadily as they tramped through the trees, her eyes scanning everywhere.

"Mommy!" Sophia cried fearfully somewhere ahead of them.

And then she saw Jacki running out of the trees, clutching the hands of both children as she sprinted forward, half dragging them along with her. She collided with Lori and Carol, and their children leapt into their arms in the next moment.

Knowing only one thing could've scared those kids—and Jacki—that badly, Jenna ran by them after the men, who had each grabbed their own blunt or sharp instrument. Shane was the only one armed with a firearm, his trusty Mossberg raised safely upward while he ran with the others, taking the lead. He was _fast_.

They didn't run far from where Jacki had appeared with the kids before they came upon the source of distress. A walker was hunched over the carcass of a doe, tearing into its neck hungrily.

Shane scanned the area to be sure there were no others around, while the rest of them glared down at the walker in disgust. Jenna hung back, seeing that there were seven of them and only one walker. This was really a one-person job, but the way the men were glaring at the thing while they circled it, told her that it was going to be stretched out amongst them anyway.

The walker turned and rose to its feet, having noticed their arrival, and snarled grotesquely. Just as it began to reach in Gabe's direction, Rick swung the metal rod he held at the thing's head. Not a moment later, Shane brought the stalk of his Mossberg down on the back of its neck with just as much force, and the other four—Glenn, Dale, Jim, and Gabe—joined in.

They certainly weren't being quick about it. Rather, they were taking their time beating the thing to death—blowing off some steam, obviously. Someone winced behind Jenna, and she turned her head slightly to see that Andrea and Amy had approached, watching in disgusted horror as the walker collapsed, but continued to snarl. Beyond the sisters, Lori and Carol were approaching slowly with Jacki, Carl and Sophia in tow. The little girl's widened eyes as she came upon the scene spurred Jenna into action.

She moved forward, weaving in between Glenn and Dale, and brought the blade of her machete careening down, cracking through the walker's skull and bringing things to an end.

Bracing her foot on the thing's face, she yanked her machete free, and gave it a little flick to fling off the excess blood before securing it back to her belt. She looked up at the slightly puzzled, mildly stunned gazes of the men around her.

"Kids are watching," she said quietly, jerking her head slightly in their direction.

Rick looked back to see that his wife and son were indeed just on the fringes of the little area, staring down at the scene with wide eyes.

"That's the first one we've had up here," panted Dale eventually, gesturing to the fallen walker. "They never come this far up the mountain," he said to Shane, who shook his head in agreement while he too stared down at the walker in disbelief.

"Well, they're runnin outta food in the city, that's what," said Jim.

A rustling in the bushes behind them made them all spin around, and Jenna found herself getting pushed back by Rick. Pain flared in her stomach and ribs, and she narrowed her eyes at him slightly, not appreciating the rough, unexpected handling, and then reminded herself that he really meant to harm—he was just trying to protect her, and he didn't know about her run-in with Ed earlier, having been asleep until recently.

Shane took the lead again, raising his shotgun and stepping closer to the trees, all of them waiting anxiously for what would come out of those bushes.

Daryl stepped into view, crossbow in hand, and stopped suddenly at the sight of six men with weapons standing in hostile anticipation before him. Shane lowered his gun, cursing under his breath as he stepped back, and the rest of them relaxed, also lowering their weapons.

"Son of a _bitch_," griped Daryl as he walked upon the scene, spotting the two dead bodies on the ground at their feet. "That's _my_ deer!" He came to a stop between the bodies, looking down at them in anger. "Look at it, all gnawed on by this _filthy_—_disease bearin_—_motherless_—_proxy bastard_!" he cursed, accentuating each adjective with a kick to the walker's ribs.

"Calm down, son," said Dale—rather unwisely, in Jenna's opinion, "that's not helpin."

Daryl rounded on Dale, and strode forward threateningly. Jenna sidestepped automatically so that she was directly in front of Dale.

"Whatd'you know 'bout it, old man?" Daryl demanded, hotheaded as ever, and stopped his advance when Jenna was standing between the two of them. Just to be on the safe side, Shane stepped forward between them, pushing Daryl back slightly with the stalk of his Mossberg. "Why don't you take that stupid hat an' go back to 'On Golden Pond?'"

Daryl took another look at Jenna and furrowed his brows. "The hell happened to you?" he asked, taking note of her busted lip, apparently.

"Ed," she said with a shrug. "Let's not make a thing out of it."

Shane rolled his eyes, giving her a long look, and Rick was looking at her more closely now.

"Asshole," muttered Daryl, making Jenna smirk slightly. With that, he turned around and approached the deer carcass again, and Jenna moved to the side, deeming it safe to leave Dale without her as a blockade.

"Been trackin this deer for miles," muttered Daryl, yanking the three arrows from its body. "Was gonna bring it back to camp—cook us up some venison. Whatd'you think?" he asked, looking up at Shane. "Think we can cut around this chewed up part right here?"

"Your funeral, man," muttered Jenna truthfully.

Shane shook his head, looking down at the deer in mild disgust, Mossberg held over his shoulders with his arms resting over the ends lazily. "Man, I would not risk that," he concurred.

Daryl sighed. "That's a damn shame," he said. "Well, got us some squirrel," he said then, indicating the string of squirrels he'd slung over his left shoulder. "'Bout a dozen or so. They'll have to do."

With that, he started making his way back up to camp, and the rest of them hesitated, knowing what would have to come next. None of them were eager to let Daryl know about Merle's situation, however, and they followed after him reluctantly. They stepped back into the campsite, were the others had mostly gathered around inquiringly. Thao ran over to Jenna's side as soon as he spotted her, and she ruffled his hair, smiling down at him to let him know everything was okay.

"Merle," Daryl called as he approached the camp's center.

Jenna's heart sank as she led Thao over to the side where Dusty stood with Jacki. This was going to kill the younger Dixon brother, she was afraid. Infuriate him, make him blind with rage, but it would kill him.

"Merle—get your ugly ass out here!" Daryl called again. "Got us some squirrel!"

"Daryl?" said Shane calmly, stowing his Mossberg into his Jeep as he approached a little ways behind. "Slow up a bit, I need to talk to you."

Daryl paused then, looking around, and then fixing his gaze to Shane in puzzlement as the other man approached him, running a hand through his hair.

"'Bout what?" Daryl asked.

"'Bout Merle," Shane answered. "There was a, uh…there was a problem in Atlanta…"

Daryl stared at Shane for a moment, and then looked around at all the others who had gathered in the area. He noticed the obvious absence of his brother, of course, and turned his gaze back to Shane, a look of determined resignation upon his face.

"He dead?" he asked, his voice somewhat quieter than usual.

Shane hesitated. "Not sure," he said regretfully.

Daryl scowled. "He either is or he ain't," he said sharply.

"No easy way to say this, so I'll just say it," said Rick, who seemed to have had enough of stretching this conversation out for the sake of delicacy, and approached the two of them.

"Who're you?" Daryl asked angrily.

"Rick Grimes," replied Rick in a calm tone.

"Rick _Grimes_," Daryl repeated scathingly, taking a step toward Rick. "Got somethin you wanna tell me?" he demanded.

"Your brother was a danger to us all," replied Rick succinctly, not sugarcoating anything. "So I handcuffed him on a roof, hooked him to a piece of metal. He's still there."

Daryl looked around at the ground, nodding, though not in understanding, Jenna knew. "Hold on," he said after a moment. "Lemmie _process_ this." He looked back at Rick, fury building up in his gaze. "You're sayin you _handcuffed_ my brother to a roof—_and you just left him there_?" he yelled angrily.

Rick gave a single nod. "Yeah."

There was murder in Daryl's eyes now, and Jenna hoped for Rick's sake that he was prepared for a fight. Daryl tossed the string of squirrels at him—a distraction technique—and before he could lunge at Rick while he ducked, Shane rushed forward, blindsiding him when he knocked him off course with his shoulder, throwing Daryl onto the ground.

"Hey!" said T-Dog anxiously, dropping the firewood he'd approached the scene with and rushing forward.

Daryl pulled the Bowie knife from its sheath and sprung back to his feet, going after Rick again.

"Watch the knife!" Shane warned his partner.

Daryl swung the knife out at Rick, who leaned back to avoid the blade, and then grabbed his right wrist, twisting it behind his back at the same time that Shane lunged forward and grabbed his left arm and slipped his own arm around Daryl's neck from behind. With the knife removed and the chokehold in place, Daryl was then easy to subdue, and Rick stepped back while Shane brought him to the ground on his knees.

"You best let me go!" Daryl growled, struggling violently.

"Naw, I think it's better if I don't," said Shane more calmly, his chokehold secure.

"Chokehold's _illegal_!" Daryl griped angrily, still struggling.

"Yeah, you can file a complaint," Shane replied. Daryl thrashed his shoulders, still trying to break free of the bind. "C'mon, man, we can keep this up all day," Shane told him.

When he stopped struggling, Rick moved forward and knelt down to be at eye-level with Daryl. "I'd like to have a _calm_ discussion on this topic," he said with composure. "You think we can manage that?" Daryl didn't respond. "_You think we can manage that?_" Rick asked again.

Daryl still didn't respond, but just breathed heavily in exertion and frustration. Shane nodded at Rick, and they both stepped back to give Daryl some room after Shane released him from the chokehold.

"What I did was not on a whim," Rick explained to Daryl intently. "You brother does not work and play well with others."

"It's not Rick's fault," said T-Dog, gaining everyone's attention then. "I had the key…I dropped it."

"You couldn't pick it up?" asked Daryl scathingly.

"I dropped it down a drain," T-Dog explained.

Daryl spat out a breath of disgust and pushed himself up off the ground. "If that's supposed to make me feel better, it don't," he said to T-Dog contemptuously.

In response to Daryl's circling stride, which brought him slowly rounding upon T-Dog, Shane moved forward to stand at T-Dog's side, just in case Daryl was inclined to attack again. At Jenna's side, Thao shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously, and she stroked his hair soothingly.

"Well, maybe this will," said T-Dog to Daryl, "I chained the door closed so the walkers couldn't get at him. With a padlock."

"That's gotta count for somethin," said Rick.

Daryl just glared at the three of them, fury and accusation all over his face, and then hung his head, looking to be close to sobbing. Jenna's heart ached for him. Merle was an asshole to everyone, his brother included, but he was still Daryl's brother, and that meant a lot to Daryl. He was family. The last bit of family Daryl had left. No matter what kind of man Merle was to the rest of them, he was Daryl's brother.

"The hell with all y'all!" he yelled bitterly. "Jus' tell me where he is, so I can go get 'im."

"He'll _show_ you," said Lori from where she stood under the awning of the RV, looking not at Daryl, but at Rick. "Isn't that right?"

Rick nodded after a long moment, and then returned his gaze to Daryl. "I'm goin back."

Lori just turned away from her husband and stepped into the RV to join her son, unable to face Rick any longer. Daryl stalked off in fury, heading toward his tent. Shane and Rick looked at each other, and judging by the look on Shane's face, he was not at all pleased with Rick's decision. Jenna could understand why; he'd just made it out of the city and found his family under impossible circumstances, only to get up and head back into the city the very next day.

Rick walked off in the direction of the Grimes' tent, presumably to get ready, and Jenna ruffled Thao's hair, and gestured for him to stay with Dusty and Jacki for a moment. She made her way to Daryl's tent on the fringes of camp, and approached him cautiously while he organized his supplies for the trip.

"Sorry," she said, coming to a stop a short distance away from him, "about your brother."

He didn't look up. "Sorry 'bout Ed."

She shrugged. "That wasn't your fault."

"Naw, it wasn't, an' Merle wasn't your fault," he pointed out. "Still apologizin for nothin."

She smirked slightly while he wasn't looking. Even upset, Daryl was still Daryl, and that was reassuring in some odd way. "Look, I know you'd rather do this on your own, but that's foolhardy," she said, getting to the point. "And I know that if it was my brother out there, I'd want all the help I could get. So if it's cool with you, I'd like to go with you—be your backup."

He finally looked up at her, studying her with his customary scowl. "Think you're up to it?" he asked doubtfully.

She shrugged. "I've gotten through more cities than I can count," she said truthfully. "I know how to handle myself out there, same way you know how to handle yourself out in these woods."

He seemed to consider that for a moment. "Why you?" he questioned. "What'd Merle ever do but harass you?"

She let out a breath of wry laughter. "Merle may be obnoxious, he may be…hell, he may be a _lotta_ things," she admitted, "but he's not all bad. Fuckers like Ed Peletier, I wouldn't waste my time on. That asshole is no good to anyone. Merle's different. I wouldn't say he's a _good_ guy, but he's not exactly a bad guy, either. And I don't think he deserves to stay stranded up on that rooftop."

Daryl stared back at her for a long moment, deliberating, and then nodded eventually. She nodded back, glad that was settled, and made her way to Dusty's tent, gathering up her Beretta and the extra magazine in her bag, stowing it away in her pocket and tucking the gun back into her belt.

"Hey, sweetheart," she said as she approached Thao where he stood under the awning with Dusty and Jacki. She knelt down to be at his level, ensuring that he would listen attentively. "I'm gonna go out with Daryl and Rick today, alright? There's something we need to do."

"Okay," he said, though looking far from pleased. "You'll come back soon?"

"As soon as I can," she assured him. "I don't know how long we'll be gone, but we will come back, I promise you that. Do you believe me?"

He nodded. "Yes."

She smiled slightly. "That's my boy. I promise I'll be back." He nodded again, and wrapped his arms around her neck in a hug. She held him tightly, kissing his hair, and then released him. "Why don't you go and play with Louis?" she suggested, nodding to the left where the other children were sitting in the dirt, playing with sidewalk chalk under Miranda's watchful gaze.

He nodded, and she patted his back, sending him on his way. Miranda ruffled his hair and handed him a piece of chalk before he settled down next to Louis.

"Jen, you sure 'bout this?" Dusty asked as she straightened up.

Jenna nodded. "I know cities," she assured her new friend. "To be honest, I'm not sure how well Rick does. And I already promised Daryl."

Jacki gave Jenna a tight squeeze. "You be careful out there, honey," she said. "We'll look after the little man," she added, tilting her head in Thao's direction.

Jenna smiled slightly. "Thank you," she said sincerely before turning back around as Shane and Rick walked up to the area, arguing. Rick had changed back into his uniform.

"Well, look, I—I don't, okay Rick?" said Shane. "So could you just—could ya throw me a bone, here, man? Could you just tell me _why_? Why would you risk your life for a douchebag like Merle Dixon?"

"Hey," said Daryl warningly, wiping down his Horton. "Choose your words more carefully."

"Oh, no, I did," said Shane, looking straight at Daryl. "Douchebag's what I meant. Merle Dixon," he muttered scathingly, looking back at Rick. "Guy wouldn't give you a glass of water if you were dyin of thirst."

"What he would or wouldn't do doesn't interest me," said Rick. "_I_ can't let a man die of thirst, _me_. Thirst an' exposure. We left him like an animal caught in a trap, that's no way for anythin to die, let alone a human-being."

"So you and Daryl…that's your big plan?" said Lori critically from where she sat around the fire pit beside her son.

Rick contemplated, looking around, and then leveled his gaze at Glenn expectantly, who stood behind him near his dismembered Challenger.

Glenn sighed heavily. "Ah, come on…"

"You know the way," Rick reasoned. "You been there before, in an' out, no problem—you said so yourself. It's not fair of me to ask, I know that, but I'd feel a lot better with you along, I know she would too," he added, gesturing to his wife—who looked far from convinced.

"That's just great," said Shane. "Now you're gonna risk three men, huh?"

"Four," said Jenna, causing everyone to turn their gaze to her in shock. The only ones not surprised by this were Dusty, Jacki, and Daryl.

Shane sighed, hanging his head slightly, but chose not to comment, for which Jenna was grateful. She didn't need him getting all chivalrous on her now. Rick, however, wasn't shy about voicing his disagreement.

"No, I think it's best if you sat this one out," he told her lightly.

She raised a brow. Who'd elected him leader of this task? "I wasn't aware that it was up to you," she said flatly. "It's Daryl's brother who was left behind, and he's fine with it."

Rick raised a hand at her gently. "Listen, I understand that you'd like to help," he began in a reasoning tone, "but I'd rather you stayed behind. No offense, but I don't need one more person to cover while we're in there."

"No offense, officer," she said, more of a bite to her tone now, "but you just woke up to the state of the world a few days ago. I've lived through it longer than you have, and most of that time was outside of this group, on my own. How many cities have you gotten through alone? I made my way here from Washington state with no help from anyone. So with all due respect, _I'll_ be the one covering _you_."

Rick kept his gaze leveled at her for a long, tense moment, neither of them backing down. He looked over at Shane for assistance, but Shane merely put his hands up briefly, shrugging, making it clear to his partner that she didn't answer to him, either.

"To be honest," said Glenn eventually, "I'd feel better if she came along."

"I'm comin too," said T-Dog, gaining everyone's attention.

Daryl huffed, adding arrows to his Horton. "My day jus' gets better an' better, don't it?" he muttered.

"You see anybody else here steppin up?" T-Dog shot back. "Save your brother's cracker ass?"

"Why _you_?" Daryl asked, repeating the same question he'd directed at Jenna before.

"You wouldn't even begin to understand," said T-Dog. "You don't speak my language."

"That's five," noted Dale after a moment.

Shane shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "It's not just five," he argued, glaring at Rick. "You're puttin every single one of us at risk, just know that, Rick. Man, c'mon, you saw that walker—it was _here_, it was _in camp_. They're movin outta the cities, if they come back, we need every able body we got an' we need em here—we need em to _protect_ camp."

"It seems to me what you really need most here are more guns," said Rick after a moment.

That certainly drew everyone's attention.

"Right, the guns…" said Glenn, apparently recalling a forgotten detail.

"Wait, what guns?" Shane asked, puzzled, like the rest of them.

"Six shotguns, two high-powered rifles, and over a dozen handguns," Rick replied. "I cleaned out the cage back at the station before I left. Dropped the bag in Atlanta when I got swarmed, it's just sittin there on the street, waitin to be picked up."

"Ammo?" Shane asked, beginning to waver.

"Seven hundred rounds, assorted," said Rick, and Jenna raised her brows, impressed. She'd never been able to salvage that much from any of the ammunition stores she'd found.

"You went through _hell_ to find us," said Lori, retracting the focus from the prize and back to the matter at hand, looking at her husband imploringly. "You just got here, and—and you're gonna turn around and _leave_?"

"Dad, I don't want you to go," said Carl sincerely.

Rick sighed, and gave his wife a long look, urging her to back him up—which wasn't going to happen, judging by the look in her face.

"To hell with the guns," she said. "Shane is right. _Merle Dixon?_ He's not worth one of your lives, even with _guns_ thrown in." She got to her feet and Rick approached her calmly, while she was rapidly becoming anything but. "Tell me," she demanded. "Make me understand."

"I owe a debt to a man I met, and his little boy," Rick explained evenly. "Lori," he said, stopping her before she could protest. "If they hadn't taken me in, I'd have _died_. It's because of them that I made it back to you at all. They said they'd follow me to Atlanta—they'll walk into the same trap I did if I don't warn em."

Lori seemed to be struggling to rein in her temper. "What's stopping you?" she asked eventually.

"Walkie-talkie, the one in the bag I dropped," said Rick. "He's got the other one, our plan was to connect when they got closer."

"Our walkies?" Shane asked from where he sat against the front bumper of his Jeep.

"Yeah," said Rick.

"So use the CB, what's wrong with that?" Andrea inquired.

"CB's fine," said Shane, shaking his head. "It's the walkies that suck—they're crap. Date back to the seventies, don't match any other bandwidth, not even the scanners in our cars."

Rick looked back at Lori. "I need that bag," he told her gently.

Lori just looked away, recognizing defeat, and sat back down beside her son. Rick knelt down to be at level with Carl, who'd been gazing up at hi, all the while. He gazed at his son, silently asking for his understanding.

"Okay?" Rick asked him quietly.

After a moment, Carl nodded. "Okay."

Rick ruffled his hair, and stood up to go and make preparations for the trip.

It wasn't long before they had the Ferenc truck backed up next to Shane's Jeep, the back opened up for them to hop in when they had their things organized and ready to go. Jenna stood beside Thao under the awning, watching him and Louis work together to draw what looked like a rocket, though they called it a spaceship.

The horn on the truck blasted, and Jenna looked up to see Daryl standing in the hatch impatiently.

"C'mon, let's go!" he griped.

Jenna patted Thao's shoulder, getting his attention. "It's time for me to head out, buddy," she told him, and he nodded glumly. "I'll be back, though, I promise."

"I know," he said with a sigh.

She gave him a rueful smile. "You be good for Jacki and Dusty, alright?"

"I will," he assured her.

She ruffled his hair and kissed his head. "That's my boy." He grinned slightly and she ruffled his hair again before heading off in the direction of the truck. When she approached, Rick and Shane were standing at the end of the hatch.

"I hate that you're doin this, man," Shane told him honestly. "I think it's foolish an' reckless, but if you're goin, you're goin armed."

"Not sure I'd wanna fire a round in the city, not after what happened last time," Rick admitted.

_Smart man, _thought Jenna wryly as she neared the truck, checking the rounds in her Beretta, checking the chamber, and then turning the safety on before stowing it back into her belt for backup. With that, her leather jacket, and her machete secured to her right side, she was good to go.

"That's up to you," said Shane, pulling his hands out of the police bag. He held what looked like a few bullets in his hands. "Five men, five rounds," he said quietly. "What're the odds, huh?"

Jenna smirked. "Four men, one liability. Isn't that right, Rick?" she quipped as she passed them, giving Rick a wink in response to his scowl.

She kept walking until she reached the passenger seat of the car, where Glenn was sitting, waiting to leave. "You good to go, man?" she inquired. "Enough rounds on you?"

He nodded. "Yeah, pretty good."

"Hey, Shortround," said Daryl from the hatch, and Jenna would've smirked under different circumstances. "Get back here with me an' Dog—lady ain't ridin in the hatch."

_Racist, but not sexist, oddly enough,_ Jenna thought, amused. She clapped Glenn on the shoulder reassuringly before he reluctantly climbed into the hatch. She would have rather ridden in the hatch with Daryl and T-Dog—it would've given Daryl one less person to scowl at, and she wouldn't have had to ride shotgun with Rick—but Daryl was in no mood to be debated with. She hopped up into the seat and closed the door before situating her machete in a more comfortable position.

"T-Dog, how're you on rounds?" she asked. "Enough on you?"

"Yeah, I'm good," he replied from his spot back in the hatch.

Rick climbed into the driver's seat, glancing at Jenna once before looking back down, loading the five rounds from Shane into his Colt Python. It was going to be a long ride into the city, Jenna knew. Reaching into her pocket, she dug out her extra magazine and popped out one round, holding it out for him to take.

He looked up at her inquiringly, and she wanted to roll her eyes.

"Your gun only holds six rounds," she explained, "it should at least be fully loaded when you need to fire it."

He nodded after a moment, accepting the round from her and loading it into the cylinder before snapping it into place. "I should thank you," he said as he stowed away his revolver.

She just leaned back into her seat as he started up the truck. "Don't bother."

He sighed slightly. "Listen, if I offended you in some way, it wasn't my intention," he said after a moment. "But I'd like for us to get along, at least while we're down in the city. It'd make things a whole lot easier if we could work together."

Jenna gave him a long look. "I'm small and female," she said, "not helpless and stupid. Don't talk down to me, and we'll get along just fine."

He let out a breath of wry laughter, nodding as he looked back at the road. "Duly noted."

* * *

Like I said, give Jenna a little time to warm up to Rick. They'll come to an understanding eventually.

On another note, sorry for such a long chapter, but there was a lot to fit in.

Up next, the quintet ventures into the city.


	8. Men and Monsters

**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing related to The Walking Dead. No copyright intended here. **

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and suggestive themes.

**Note: **This chapter will toggle back and forth a bit between Jenna's and Shane's perspective. Sorry if that's the kind of thing that bothers you, but that's how I work.

* * *

_"We bereaved are not alone. We belong to the largest company in all the world—the company of those who have known suffering."_

_—Helen Keller_

* * *

Men and Monsters

_JPOV_

It was a long trip, to say the least. With Jenna and Rick staying silent in the front and Daryl glaring daggers at T-Dog and Glenn in the back, the tension was already thick. Part of Jenna was actually eager to get out of that damn truck, despite the danger of the city.

"Stop the truck," said Glenn eventually, breaking the long silence.

"On foot from here?" Jenna guessed as the truck rolled to a stop along some train tracks a distance from the city.

"Yeah," he confirmed, and they exited the vehicle.

"Good call," Jenna mused to herself as she closed the passenger door, taking a look around their surroundings to check for danger. Driving that Ferenc truck into the city would be sure to attract unwanted attention, and that was the last thing they needed. They couldn't afford to be held up if they could help it.

They made their way toward the city at a jog, constantly on the lookout for any sign of trouble. In these scenarios, all sorts of things could go horribly wrong. Because no matter how bad things were already, Jenna had learned many, many times over that they could _always_ get worse.

After a good long jog, they'd reached the edge of the city and slipped in through some chain-link fencing.

"Alright," said Rick, looking around at their surroundings, "Merle first, or guns?"

"Merle!" said Daryl indignantly. "We ain't even havin this conversation."

"We _are_," contradicted Rick sternly.

"You wanna have this conversation a bit more quietly?" Jenna suggested, glaring at both of them. There was a reason Glenn preferred to scavenge in the city alone.

Rick gave her a hard look as they moved forward into the city, and then turned his attention to Glenn. "You know the geography, this is your call."

"Merle's closest," Glenn answered truthfully. "Getting the guns first would mean doubling back. Merle first."

"Yeah, no shit," growled Daryl as they sped up to a jog again.

Jenna rolled her eyes and released her machete from her belt as they moved further into the city, heading straight for the danger zone. With all the tension among the five of them, things were sure to get worse.

It took a while for them to reach the department store Merle had been stranded on top of, running through allies and slipping around corners to avoid the dead. Of course, there were some that couldn't be avoided no matter how carefully or quietly they moved, which were taken down with relative ease, thanks to Daryl's Horton. Jenna really wished she'd taken archery lessons along with shooting lessons when she'd had the chance. There was a lot to be said for a weapon that didn't attract attention and operated on reusable ammo.

_Hindsight's always 20/20, _she mused wryly as they reached the main floor of the department store, and Daryl raised his Horton at a walker shuffling along between the rows of clothing.

"Damn," he muttered. "You are one ugly skank."

The thing turned its head in his direction, snarling as it began to reach forward. The snarl was cut off when Daryl sent an arrow piercing through its skull, and collapsed onto the linoleum floor in a heap. While he yanked the arrow from its skull, Jenna peeked around the corner that led to the stairway, her back pressed against the wall, being sure that their way was clear. She nodded at them to let them know they were good to go, and Rick held a hand up to her as he and Daryl moved forward, letting her know to stay put and let them pass her. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the needless chivalry, and followed after them with Glenn and T-Dog.

They proceeded to work their way up the remaining floors in a similar fashion, taking down three more walkers along the way. With as bad as things had gotten yesterday, according to Jacki and the others, Jenna was expecting the building to be a little more swarmed. The fact that it wasn't just made their job that much easier, however, and all they had to do was keep Merle cooperative long enough for them to safely retrieve the bag of guns. If all went well, they'd be back before dark.

If all went well.

Finally, they were just one flight of stairs away from the rooftop, and the five of them rushed up the steps in a group, Rick at the lead. They stopped at the door, Jenna and Glenn standing a little behind the other three on the steps due to the lack of open space.

No sooner than T-Dog had cut through the padlock with Dale's bolt cutters was Daryl slamming his foot into the door, kicking it open with a bang.

"Merle!" he yelled, rushing through the open doorway.

The rest of them rushed after him, and Jenna scanned her eyes around quickly, searching for danger and not finding anything…anything at all…

"No! _No!_" wailed Daryl in fury, pacing around wildly.

Jenna came to a stop beside Glenn and looked down at what had upset Daryl so much, not exactly sure what she was expecting to see. She certainly wasn't expecting this.

There was no Merle, dead or alive, but there was a single severed hand lying palm up on the blood-stained concrete.

Jenna's stomach roiled at the sight, understanding what must've happened. The bloodied hacksaw that lay near the hand told her everything she needed to know. Merle had decided, for whatever reason, to free himself from his trap, which was very in accordance to who he was—a survivalist. For all he knew, he'd been left for dead, and he wasn't about to sit around and wait for someone to come and rescue him. But what had happened to him in the meantime?

The blood-stained handcuffs hung from the metal pipe, swinging ominously, and Jenna would've been lying if she were to say that she believed they had a shot of finding him now.

* * *

_SPOV_

Things were pretty calm around camp so far, for which Shane was grateful. It had been an eventful morning to say the least, with the confrontation with Ed and Daryl's outrage at his brother's situation. For now, however, things seemed to have calmed down considerably.

Ed was hiding away in his tent, not wanting to show his beaten in face, no doubt, which seemed to have a positive effect on everyone. Sophia was more cheerful while she played dolls with Eliza, anyway, and it was pretty nice to see the little girl able to relax and enjoy herself rather than looking over her shoulder to see if her father was nearby before she allowed herself that luxury. Even Carol seemed to have cheered up a bit while she chatted happily with Lori at the fire pit. The blood on her face had been cleaned away, and the bruise that had stained the side of her mouth was already starting to fade.

Shane's own knuckles were still pretty sore, but it was a small price to pay in his opinion. At least Carol, Sophia, and the other women in camp wouldn't have to be afraid of upsetting Ed anymore. Now all there was to worry about was Roy McFadden bothering them, but he was less of a threat, in any case. He was a pervert with no qualms about showing it, but he at least kept his distance. Usually, all it took was one glare from Shane, T-Dog, Gabe, or Jim, and he would slink off back to his tent without a word.

"Like this?" Carl asked, holding up the rope to show Shane his work.

"Close," Shane granted. "Bring this part through that loop there," he instructed, showing the boy how to tie a bowline, trying to keep his mind off of his father's whereabouts.

Shane still could not understand what had possessed Rick to make him go back into that damn city. He could understand why he would take issue with Merle being left behind on a rooftop, but he couldn't understand why Rick felt he had to be the one to go after him. There were already four others heading in—four others who knew how to handle themselves in the city and had much more experience at it than Rick—and that was enough to get the job done. Even if Rick felt responsible, Shane truly believed that he was wrong to have headed into the city again. He'd only just made it back to his family—his obligation was with them, not a drug dealer who'd earned himself a night out on a rooftop.

In all honesty, he was starting to regret not going in Rick's place. After everything they'd been through, that family should've remained intact. Rick didn't have to be the one, Shane could have gone instead. Would that have kept his friend here at camp, though? It was hard to say. One thing he knew about Rick was that when he put his mind to something, he remained adamant until it was done. Even so, he could've gone in Rick's place, seeing as he was so set on _righting his wrong_. Shane didn't believe Merle Dixon was worth the risk, but Rick did.

There was nothing he could do about it now, however, other than heading out into the city himself to assist his friend. But doing so would leave the others at camp with one less defender, and there were already too few of them. All he could do was hold out here and wait for Rick and the others to return safely.

Nearby, Gabe gave a delighted laugh, and Shane looked up to see Amy and Andrea approaching the fire pit, with about two dozen bluegill between them.

"Will you look at that?" said Gabe to the others. "Check it out!"

Andrea passed the fish to him, and he held it up appreciatively, a wide grin on his face. Lori, who'd been helping Carol patch up some clothes, clapped in gratitude, a look of awe upon her face.

Shane was just glad that she'd forgiven him for leaving Rick behind, and that her period of frantic blame had ended. He'd explained the same thing he'd told her right before they left for the refugee center—the machines stopped working, he listened for a heartbeat and didn't hear one, as far as he could tell, there was nothing left for him to do for Rick. And if he'd known Rick was still alive, he would have never left him in that death trap of a hospital. She knew that, but Lori's primary means of coping with stress was often to go on the defensive automatically.

Thankfully, Carol had come to the rescue, reminding Lori of what really mattered; Rick was alive, and he'd found them. They were unified once more, and blaming Shane for the biggest mistake of his life wasn't going to recover that lost time.

"Ladies," praised Gabe to Amy and Andrea, "because of you, my children will eat tonight. Thank you."

"Thank Dale," said Andrea, setting down the tackle box. "It's his canoeing gear."

"Mom, look!" said Carl excitedly. "Look at all the fish!" The boy leaned closer and poked one of the dangling fish in the side. "Whoa…"

"Yeah, whoa," said Lori amusedly. "Where did you two learn to do that?" she asked Amy and Andrea in amazement.

Shane had to cover up a smirk. Lori had definitely never been the outdoorsy type.

"Our dad," said Amy proudly.

"Can you teach me how to do that?" Carl asked her hopefully.

"Sure," she agreed brightly. "Teach you all about nail knots and stuff—if that's okay?" she asked, looking over at Lori inquiringly.

"You won't catch me arguin," Lori promised.

Both Louis and Thao had scooted up close to the fish, leaning forward to get a good look at them, fascination upon both of their faces.

"Hey, Dale," called Andrea as the old man approached the rest of them. "When's the last time you oiled those line reels? They are a disgrace," she teased.

The strangely tense expression on the old man's face told Shane that something was wrong. "I, uh…" Dale began hesitantly. "I don't wanna alarm anyone, but…we may have a bit of a problem," he told them, sobering the atmosphere quickly.

He looked at Shane and pointed up toward the hill in the distance, and they followed his direction to see Jim, digging away under the baking sun.

"What's he doin?" Shane asked Dale, puzzled.

"I don't know," said Dale, sounding equally baffled. "He's just been up there digging for hours, and he won't stop. I tried to talk to him, but he barely even acknowledged I was there."

With a bad feeling creeping up on him, Shane decided to go and talk to Jim himself to try and ascertain the situation. Maybe it was nothing. Hopefully, it was nothing. But if it was something, then they needed to deal with it before things got out of hand. The stability of the camp was a delicate balancing act, and things needed to remain in balance, otherwise discord would ensue, and everything would go downhill from there.

"I'll go talk to him," said Shane to Dale, clapping the old man on the shoulder. "See what's up."

"I'll go with you," said Gabe, passing the fish back to Andrea.

It was a bit of a snowball effect, and soon the entire camp was itching to head up to the hill to investigate. Though Shane would have preferred most of them to stay behind, he didn't argue, and they went as a group.

"Stay together, y'all, don't fall behind," Shane urged them as they moved, checking back to make sure there were no stragglers and that all of the children were well attended to.

They reached the hilltop in a few minutes, and in the time that everyone had filed into place before coming to a stop, Jim still hadn't looked up from the hole he was digging, seeming to have no idea they were even there. His shirt was completely soaked with sweat, and his hair was matted down to his head with the combined sweat and dirt that had collected there. He was breathing heavily in exertion, but still, he wouldn't stop. He'd dug about seven holes already, though for what, Shane couldn't say.

"Hey, Jim?" Shane asked eventually, cautiously. "Jim why don't you hold up, huh—just gimmie a second here, please?"

Jim heaved a great sigh and stabbed the shovel into the ground beside him, turning to face him finally. "What do you want?" he breathed.

"Well, I'm just a little concerned, man, that's all," said Shane lightly.

"Dale says you've been out here for hours," input Gabe explanatorily.

Jim turned his gaze to Dale, a mixture of puzzlement and accusation in his expression. "So?" he demanded.

"So, why you diggin?" Shane asked. "What, you headin to China, Jim?" he joked, trying to keep things on a light note.

"What does it matter?" Jim questioned, putting his arms out questioningly. "I'm not hurtin anyone." And with that, he pulled the shovel from the earth and proceeded with working on the newest hole again.

"Yeah, except maybe yourself," qualified Dale. "It's a hundred degrees today. You can't keep this up."

"Sure I can," replied Jim, stabbing the shovel into the dirt to loosen it. "Watch me."

Lori stepped forward then, leaving Carl to stand with Carol and Sophia. "Jim, they're not gonna say it, so I will… You're scarin people. You're scarin my son, and Carol's daughter."

Jim paused again, leaning against the handle of the shovel, giving Lori a long, exasperated look. "They got nothin to be scared of." He looked around at the rest of them. "Hey, what the hell, people? I'm out here by myself, why don't you all just go an' leave me the hell alone?"

He started digging once more, and Shane stepped forward, knowing he had to intervene now. "We think that you need to take a break, okay?" he suggested lightly. "Why don't you go an' get yourself in the shade for a bit, get some food? Hey, I tell ya what—maybe in a little bit I'll come out here, I'll help you myself, Jim. Jus' tell me what it's about." Still, Jim did not respond. "Jim, why don't you go ahead an' give me that shovel?"

Again, Jim stopped digging and stabbed the shovel into the ground at his feet, looking up at Shane challengingly. "Or _what_?"

"There is no 'or what,'" Shane assured him calmly. "I'm _askin_ you, please. I don't wanna have to take it from ya," he said sincerely.

"If I don't, then what?" Jim demanded. "Then you gonna beat my face in like Ed Peletier, aren't ya?" Shane cringed internally, avoiding looking back toward Carol and Sophia. "Y'all seen his face, huh, what's _left_ of it?" said Jim more loudly to the rest of the group, and then leaned forward toward Shane tauntingly. "See, now that's what happens when someone crosses you."

Shane struggled to keep his temper from rising. The situation at the quarry wasn't about Ed having crossed him. It was about the women of the camp being terrorized by Ed, and putting themselves in harm's way to protect each other from him, because no one else was there to do it for them. It was about Carol and Sophia's need to be protected from the very person who should have been the one protecting them.

"That was different, Jim," said Shane mildly.

"You weren't there," Amy defended. "Ed was out of control, he was hurting his wife, he hit Jenna twice."

"That is _their_ marriage! That is not his!" Jim declared, pointing at Shane. "Jenna had no business interfering anyway." He turned back to Shane. "You are not judge and jury. Who voted you king-boss, huh?"

"Jim, I'm not here to argue with you, alright?" said Shane, knowing he needed to get this situation resolved, now. "Jus' gimmie the shovel," he said, stepping forward and reaching for it.

"No, no," said Jim, shoving him back.

Shane ducked in time to avoid getting struck in the head by the swinging shovel, and made his move, tackling Jim to the ground and pulling the shovel out of his grasp, tossing it to the side.

"You got no right!" cried Jim as Shane wrestled his arms behind his back. "You got no right!"

"Jim, just stop," Shane urged, trying to keep the man calm. "Hey, hey—Jim! Nobody is gonna hurt you, you hear me? Nobody is gonna hurt you, okay?"

"That's a lie," said Jim in a defeated voice while Shane cuffed his hands behind his back, "that's the biggest lie there is. I told that to my wife, an' my two boys—I said it a hundred times. It didn't matter. They came outta nowhere—there were dozens of em. Jus' pulled them right outta my hands…" Shane paused, a sensation of foreboding rapidly washing over him. "The only reason I got away was 'cause the dead were too busy eatin my family…"

Shane closed his eyes and hung his head, trying not to visualize the horrible image Jim had just described. He hadn't known that about Jim. Hell, he hadn't known anything about Jim, other than that he was a great auto mechanic. And now, after having tackled him to the ground and forcing him into a pair of handcuffs, the most horrible event of his existence had just been spilled out.

It just went to show that these days, everyone had been touched by this chaotic world in some way or another. Everyone had suffered to some degree. Everyone had a story. And for some of them, their story was far worse than others could imagine.

* * *

_JPOV_

With an angry roar, Daryl swung around and had his crossbow aimed at T-Dog, murder in his furious gaze. Rick reacted immediately and calmly not a moment later, aiming his Colt Python directly at Daryl's head, hammer pulled back and ready for fire. Jenna stood off to the side with Glenn, both of them frozen in place and her heart in her throat.

"I won't hesitate," Rick promised him tensely. "I don't care if every walker in the city hears it."

_Please, please, please…_Jenna begged internally. _Please, just put it down…_

Thankfully, after a few long, tense moments, Daryl did lower his Horton and Rick lowered his revolver, clicking the hammer back into place. And Jenna started breathing again.

Daryl, who looked like he was caught somewhere between wanting to break down and weep or commit a highly aggravated murder, turned his eyes back up to T-Dog, forcing himself to calm down. "You got a do-rag, or somethin?" he asked.

Slowly, T-Dog pulled a bandana from his pocket and handed it to Daryl, who snatched it out of his hands and approached the bloody mess, kneeling down. He spread out the bandana on the concrete and picked up the severed hand before folding it up within the cloth carefully, as though afraid to do more damage. Jenna wasn't sure what exactly he was going to do with Merle's hand, but she didn't voice her inquiry—it was none of her business how Daryl chose to grieve.

"I guess the saw blade was too dull for the handcuff," Daryl mused aloud. "Ain't that a bitch?"

He stood, bandana-covered hand in his hold, and Jenna felt a great wave of sympathy for Glenn, who looked close to vomiting, when Daryl tucked the thing into the backpack on Glenn's shoulders.

"He musta used a tourniquet," Daryl noted as he studied the bloody mess around the empty handcuffs. "Maybe his belt. There'd be much more blood if he didn't."

He walked off across the rooftop to another door, following the miniscule trail of blood, and Rick nodded his head at the others, gesturing them to follow after him. Glenn moved forward reluctantly, still looking far from pleased about the load in his backpack, and Jenna walked with him while T-Dog recovered the bag of tools that had been scattered on the floor.

With Daryl at the lead, they traveled through the building from a new starting point, this time heading downward, following the blood.

It wasn't long before the trail led them to a lobby on one of the middle floors, and Daryl took out the mangled walker that turned to greet them with a snarl. It was clear that Merle had passed through here, based on the blood and the two fallen walkers that had already been taken care of, their heads split open on the floor.

"Had enough in him to take out these two son'bitches," noted Daryl, definite pride in his voice. "One-handed." He strung his Horton and loaded it with another arrow. "Toughest asshole I ever me, my brother. Feed him a hammer, he'd crap out nails."

"Any man can pass out from blood loss," Rick said honestly while Jenna picked up the blood-spattered wrench that had apparently been Merle's weapon. "No matter how tough he is."

She added the wrench to the tool bag as they moved further, Daryl still leading the way.

"Merle!" Daryl called, creeping around the doorway of the kitchen of a small restaurant within the department store.

"We're not alone here, remember?" said Rick in a low, stern voice, voicing Jenna's thoughts exactly for the first time while she glanced around behind them, checking for danger.

"Screw that," muttered Daryl. "He could be bleedin out—you said so yourself."

They all moved slowly and cautiously into the kitchen, finding the propane stove still burning, and a bloodied leather belt near the burner. Rick moved forward and studied the stove more closely, picking up what looked like an iron press. Jenna's stomach churned when she noticed what was stuck to the surface.

"What's that burned stuff?" Glenn wondered in a whisper.

"Skin," Jenna answered.

"_What?_" Glenn asked, bewildered and disgusted.

"He cauterized the stump," Rick explained, putting the thing back down.

"Told you he was tough," said Daryl proudly. "Ain't nobody gonna kill Merle but Merle."

Rick looked far from convinced. "Don't take that on faith," he advised grimly. "He's lost a lotta blood."

"Yeah?" challenged Daryl as he moved toward a shattered window, peering out of it down the fire escape. "Didn't stop him from bustin outta this deathtrap."

"He left the building?" Glenn asked, perplexed. "Why the hell would he do that?"

"Why wouldn't he?" muttered Daryl. "He's out there alone, as far as he knows. Doin what he's gotta do…survivin."

"You call that survivin?" asked T-Dog incredulously. "Just wonderin out in the streets, maybe passin out? What are his odds out there?"

"No worse than bein handcuffed an' left to rot by you sorry pricks," Daryl shot back, and turned around to face Rick, getting in his face. "You couldn't kill him. I ain't so worried about some dumb, _dead_ bastard."

"What about a thousand dumb, dead bastards?" asked Rick, not backing down. "Different story?"

"Take a tally," said Daryl, glaring. "Do what you want. I'ma go get 'im."

Rick put his hand out on Daryl's chest, keeping him from moving by him—which was not the wisest of moves, in Jenna's opinion, as temperamental as Daryl already was under _normal_ circumstances. "Daryl, wait—"

"Get your hands off me!" yelled Daryl in fury. "You can't stop me!"

"_Shhh!_" hissed Jenna and Glenn together.

"I don't blame you," said Rick intently. "He's family—I get that. I went through hell to find mine. I know exactly how you feel. He can't get far with that injury. We can help you check a few blocks around, but _only_ if we keep a level head."

Daryl glared back at Rick, reigning in his temper. "I can do that."

"Only if we get those guns first," said T-Dog eventually. "I'm not strollin the streets of Atlanta with just my good intentions, okay?"

Though the others were in general agreement, Jenna couldn't say that she thought the guns were really that vital. Both Glenn and T-Dog had one revolver on them, and if they used blunt or sharp instruments as their primary means of defense against the dead, then they should've been just fine. When it came to fighting the dead, stealth was key, and you couldn't exactly be all that stealthy when the sound of gunfire was announcing your location like a bright red flare. But, she knew that she would be overruled here, so she kept her mouth shut while Glenn devised a plan of retrieval—which was actually very clever. She'd wondered if he had some type of military experience, as unlikely as it seemed, until Daryl's inquiry led him to reveal that he'd delivered pizzas for a living. Huh. Perhaps he'd just been born with a remarkable sense of tactical intuition.

It wasn't long before Jenna had joined Glenn and Daryl down a very, very unnerving climb down a ladder along the side of the building. _For the love of God, please don't either of you let go and fall on me, _she thought as she worked her way down the ladder as quickly as possible, Glenn and Daryl not very far above her.

She was immensely relieved when her feet met solid ground and she moved back to give Glenn and Daryl room. In the next moment, they were moving quickly and quietly down the alley, spotting a few walkers visible in the distance in the main street ahead of them. She wondered how Rick and T-Dog were faring in the alley two blocks away, but assumed that if they'd run into danger, the three of them would've heard something.

"You got some balls for a Chinaman," muttered Daryl as they stood crouched at the edge of the alley behind a dumpster.

"I'm _Korean_," said Glenn, sounding slightly agitated—which was understandable, considering the circumstances.

"Whatever," said Daryl flatly.

"Shut up," Jenna hissed irritably, not caring at the moment whether or not she pissed off the hothead next to her. There were bigger things to worry about, like whether or not Glenn made it back safely.

With that, Glenn dashed off, darting out of the alley and out of sight. Jenna worked to remind herself that Glenn was perfect for the task. He was smart and quick on his feet, and as long as he stayed quiet, as she knew he would, there was no reason for him not to make it back in one piece.

Crouching down behind the dumpster, waiting, Jenna and Daryl looked at each other when the sound of light footsteps could be heard moving up the alley toward them. And the sound of actual, paced footsteps rather than shuffling and dragging told them both one thing—this was no walker, and there shouldn't have been anyone coming up the alley from that direction.

They both rose to stand and wove around the dumpster, Horton raised and machete in hand, to find a skinny teenaged boy in a dirty wife-beater freezing in his tracks, looking like a deer caught in a pair of headlights.

Jenna took in his appearance quickly, noting that he was not armed with any weapon—firearm or otherwise—and she scanned her eyes around the alley to look for his backup. This scrawny, unarmed kid could not have survived long in the city on his own. But she didn't see anyone else, and wondered what the hell the kid was doing, creeping down the alley unarmed that way.

"Whoa—don't shoot me!" the idiot yelled when Daryl raised his Horton at him. "Whatd'you want?"

"_Shut up!_" Jenna hissed sharply.

"Lookin for my brother, he's hurt real bad, you seen 'im?" Daryl demanded, stepping closer to the kid, not lowering his crossbow.

"Ayúdame! _Ayúdame!_" the kid yelled over them, even louder than before, and Jenna's heart kicked into high gear. She didn't remember much Spanish from high school, but she recognized _that_. He was calling for help, and the way he was screaming over their heads told her that there were others nearby—within shouting distance, at least.

"Shut up—you're gonna bring the walkers down on us!" Daryl spat, sticking his crossbow into the kid's face. "Answer me!"

"_Ayúdame!_"

Daryl swung his Horton out, slamming the kid in the face with it to shut him up, and the boy went down, falling back onto the pavement. Jenna dropped down immediately, sitting on the boy's ribs, her knees pinning his arms down while she clamped her hand over his mouth before he could start yelling again. He thrashed his head from side to side and struggled to free himself, and Jenna let go of her machete to clamp both hands over his mouth to keep him quiet.

Suddenly, a large hand was grabbing her by the collar of her jacket and yanking her backward. Before she could even look around to see why the hell Daryl was grabbing her, she was thrown back onto the pavement, and the two men above her were definitely not Daryl.

Instinctively, she shot her legs outward, kicking the nearest one in the knee and making him growl in pain and anger. Before he could move more than a few inches toward her, Daryl came out of nowhere and dove, hitting the man in the side like a projectile and bringing him down while the other man lunged after him.

The boy went to pick up her Beretta that had slipped out of her belt and onto the concrete in the struggle, and Jenna dove at him, not about to give him the chance to shoot Daryl.

They collided and rolled across the pavement into the side of the building, each of them struggling to get the other pinned. She had no idea how Daryl was faring, but she couldn't stop to check—the kid was thrashing around and lashing out wildly, and Jenna cursed herself for being so damn small.

"Hey—that's the bag, vato, _take it_!" yelled one of the men while Jenna worked to get the boy's hands pinned.

The cry of pain from the end of the alley told her that Glenn had returned, and that he'd just been attacked. She looked up immediately, unable not to, to see both of the men over Glenn, one of them kicking him in the side and the other swinging an aluminum bat down on him.

The bald one grabbed the bag of guns while the other dragged Glenn up by his shirt, taking him with them while they escaped from the alley.

_No, Glenn! _thought Jenna in panic, just in time for a sharp, airy, piercing sound to announce the shooting of an arrow, which whizzed right by her and into the ass of the man carrying the bag. He roared in pain, dropping the bag, but kept going, he and his comrade dragging Glenn out into the street to meet an old Ford Galaxy that had just skidded to a halt before them.

Glenn hollered all the way, cursing at his captors and begging for Daryl and Jenna to help him. In an instant, he was shoved into the back of the car, and it peeled out with a loud screech before speeding out of sight while Jenna looked on helplessly in dread.

And like a gunshot to the chest, Jenna was faced with the reminder that the most dangerous things in this world weren't the dead, but the living.


	9. Quid Pro Quo

**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing related to The Walking Dead. No copyright intended here.**

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and suggestive themes.

* * *

_"Life improves slowly and goes wrong fast, and only catastrophe is clearly visible."_

_—Edward Teller_

* * *

Quid Pro Quo

Getting that kid out of the alley and into the department store was no easy feat. He hollered and struggled in Rick's hold all the way, attracting much unwanted attention from the swarm of walkers that had been drawn in by all the noise from the alley. Jenna would have suggested knocking the kid out so he could be carried along quietly, but they needed him conscious for interrogative purposes. Not that he was very cooperative once they shoved him into a chair of an office room for questioning.

As much as Jenna hated to admit it, she had to hand it to the kid for not breaking down and confessing everything they wanted to hear from him. He was tougher than he looked.

"Those men you were with—we need to know where they went," said Rick calmly, for possibly the hundredth time.

Jenna, who was leaning back against the wall, was really getting sick of this waiting game. If they didn't do something to scare the living hell out of this kid, he wasn't going to give them anything. The more time they wasted on him, the more time his friends had with Glenn, and God only knew what he was going through.

Daryl seemed just as agitated as she was while he paced back and forth, building up a head of steam.

"I ain't tellin you nothin," the kid said, speaking up finally as he looked up at Rick furtively.

"Jesus, man…" sighed T-Dog in exasperation. "What the hell happened out there?"

"I told you," said Daryl angrily, pacing faster, "this little turd an' his douchebag friends came outta nowhere and jumped us."

"Man, you're the one who jumped me, puto," the kid shot back. "Screamin about tryin'a find his brother like it's my damn fault, an' this chick starts stranglin me for no damn reason."

Jenna gave him a long look. "I was not strangling you, punk ass."

"They took Glenn," said Daryl, still pacing, "they coulda taken Merle too."

"Merle?" the kid scoffed, and Jenna knew he was crossing into very, _very_ hostile territory. "What kinda hick name is that? I wouldn't name my _dog_ Merle."

Predictably, Daryl lunged at the kid, looking to be about to carry out that ass-stomping he'd promised in the alley. Rick caught him just before he could reach the kid, however, and shoved him back.

"Daryl, _back off_," Rick admonished.

Daryl seemed to calm down suddenly, looking to be thinking clearly again, thinking with purpose. When he moved over toward Glenn's backpack and started digging through it, Jenna understood why. As disgusting as it was, she hoped that this tactic would be enough to scare the kid into talking.

"You wanna see what happened to the last guy that pissed me off?" Daryl asked, unwrapping the bandana that covered Merle's severed hand.

He threw it down onto the kid's lap, and as soon as he realized what exactly it was, he tossed it away with a startled yelp and jumped out of his seat. Falling onto the ground, he scooted back as far as he could until his back was pressed against the wall. Jenna wondered if maybe they were finally starting to get somewhere.

Daryl was upon the boy in the next moment, his hands around his neck. "We'll start with the _feet_ this time," he threatened.

Rick moved forward and pulled Daryl away from the kid once more. Daryl didn't protest, for it was obvious that his tactics had been effective—the kid looked scared enough to wet his pants.

Rick knelt down in front of the boy calmly, maintaining the "good cop" role. "The men you were with took our friend," he said to the kid. "All we wanna do is talk to em, see if we can work somethin out."

After a long moment, the kid nodded slowly, and Jenna sighed in relief. At least they were getting somewhere.

* * *

After a bit of a trek through the city, cutting through alleyways most of the time to avoid as much of the dead as possible, the kid eventually led them to the very rundown-looking building he and his group resided in. They had apparently wandered into what used to be the lower-income area of the city, judging by the abundance of graffiti on every building. The area looked like it had been in bad shape even before the world went to hell.

Rather than going around to the front of the old building, the boy led them around to the back through the alley, and they stopped about a block away to avoid detection until the last possible moment. This had to be done right.

"Sure you're up for this?" Rick asked Jenna while they paused to organize.

She just nodded while she loaded rounds into the Browning Automatic rifle she'd received from the bag of guns.

"You've fired one before?" Rick asked again, apparently wanting to be sure of this fact.

"Browning, Remington, Winchester, and Springfield—fired all of them a few times," Jenna replied, containing her exasperation. "We've already decided on this, in any case."

It was a good strategy, and she found that she and Rick were actually on the same page here—for the second time in one day. Rick, Daryl, and T-Dog would go in with the kid to make a trade for Glenn, one man for another, while she remained staked out at the top of the adjacent building with the enemy in the sights of the rifle. With the muscle at the front of the line and a trick up their sleeve, it gave them a more level playing field while venturing into hostile territory.

Jenna knew that standing down there with the others wouldn't be very effective—her presence would hardly be intimidating, and she was better suited to stealth than shows of force. With her position as sniper, she could do more for Glenn and the others than she would be able to otherwise.

"One wrong move, you get an arrow in the ass—jus' so you know," Daryl warned the kid while Jenna finished with loading the rifle.

"G's gonna take that arrow outta my ass, an' shove it up yours—jus' so _you_ know," the kid replied.

Jenna hated to admit that she might've liked the kid under different circumstances.

"G?" Rick inquired.

"Guillermo," the boy explained. "He the man here."

Rick nodded, shoving rounds into the pump-action shotgun he held. "Okay then," he said to the rest of them. "Let's go see Guillermo." He turned his gaze to Jenna, who had slung the strap of the gun bag over her shoulder before heading off to her lookout position. "You sure you got that?" he asked, nodding to the bag.

"Not helpless and stupid," she reminded him flatly. "Focus on the task, not me."

With that, she rushed down the alley, gun bag in tow, and made her way up to her lookout position as quickly and quietly as possible, wary of her surroundings. Who knew whether Guillermo designated scouts to circulate the area?

Making sure the coast was clear and securing her spot, Jenna set the bag down beside her and loaded a round in the chamber of the Browning, watching as Rick, Daryl, and T-Dog moved slowly toward the large back doors of the building, the kid in front of them and guns raised. They came to a stop a short distance from the large back doors of the building, and only had to wait a moment or two before they slid open.

First, just one man stepped out, and Jenna assumed him to be Guillermo. Despite his slightly small stature, he exuded a certain air of authority. So she kept him in her crosshairs, even as three other men stepped out to stand at his flanks—only one of them she recognized from the alley; the bald one who'd taken an arrow to the ass. He obviously recognized Daryl too, for he raised a small Colt revolver at him angrily. Still, Jenna kept her sights on Guillermo. Daryl, armed with his trusty Horton, was fully capable of taking care of himself, and the baldy was not her primary target. If he died, it wouldn't do much for them. Guillermo was the one that mattered.

At the distance she was at, Jenna couldn't hear anything they were saying, and could only hope that they were negotiating. When Guillermo put a hand out to calm the baldy, she was glad that it seemed to be going that way. It showed that he was willing to talk for the moment, in any case.

_Fuck—spoke too soon, _she thought as the other man from the alley stepped forward, aiming his own revolver at T-Dog while a third man aimed at Rick. The tension was rising, and Jenna moved her finger over the trigger, prepared to take the shot she really hoped she didn't have to take.

Rick nodded up in her direction, and Guillermo turned his head to look up at her, noticing her for the first time. His right eye was directly in her crosshairs as he stared up at her, calm as could be. He looked far from scared, and it was obvious that this was far from being the first time he'd had a gun aimed at him. She wondered how many times he'd almost been killed. How many times he'd killed to survive. He was more than prepared for this, that much was clear. And Jenna hated to admit that she was too, if it came down to it.

_Please, just make the trade, _she begged silently, her finger still over the trigger. _Don't make me take this shot… Don't make me add to the blood on my hands… _

But apparently, Guillermo had another card up his sleeve as well. He called to someone up above, and Jenna glanced upward toward the top of the building, higher even than her stakeout position—and her heart dropped like a lead weight.

Two men stood up at the edge of the rooftop with another, smaller man held between them with a bag over his head and his arms tied behind his back. The bag was ripped form his head, and Glenn's eyes were wide with fright as he stared down at the others below him from where he stood precariously at the edge of the roof. It would be a fatal drop onto the unforgiving concrete, and Jenna resisted the nearly overwhelming urge to swing the Browning upward and take out the two men at Glenn's sides.

That would certainly initiate the bloodbath they were trying to avoid, and it would do nothing but put all of them in grave danger—and with that thought in mind, Jenna forced herself to keep her sights on Guillermo. He was still the primary target.

It was unbelievably frustrating to have Glenn so damn close and still be unable to do anything to help him. He may as well have been on the other side of the country.

Guillermo spoke to Rick a moment longer, and though Jenna couldn't hear anything, his demeanor was not that of a man willing to make a trade. All she could do now was wait for Rick's signal, and she'd take the shot.

But then, he turned his gaze back up to her, giving her a smug little smirk, and he was stepping calmly back into the building, his protectors backing up more slowly until all of them were on the other side of the closing doors again. Puzzled, Jenna looked up to see that Glenn was being dragged backward and he was out of sight in the next moment. _What the hell? _

Down below, Rick jerked his head at her, motioning for her to meet them in the alley again, before the three of them retreated, the kid still in tow.

A trade hadn't been made, but they were leaving anyway? Bewildered and angry, Jenna turned the safety of the Browning back on and slung the bag over her shoulder again, rushing back down to meet the others. If Rick was seriously considering leaving Glenn behind for the guns, Jenna was going to have his ass.

"What the hell happened?" she demanded in a low voice as soon as she met them.

"He made us a deal," said Rick as they rushed down the alley, taking the bag from her. "He wants the guns and Miguel, and he'll let Glenn go. We gotta plan this, come on," he urged.

They returned the same office room in the department store to talk through their options. Jenna thought about suggesting a partial trade—giving them the bag of guns, but taking half of the firearms and ammunition for themselves—but then factored in Miguel. He would surely fill Guillermo in on that little detail once they were within the clutches of the much larger group.

"Guns are worth more 'n gold," said Daryl to Rick. "Gold don't protect your family or put food on the table. You willin to give that up for that kid?"

Jenna decided to keep her mouth shut to avoid saying something that would be sure to piss off the hothead.

"If I knew we'd get Glenn back, I might agree," said T-Dog more delicately. "But do you think that vato's just gonna hand him over?" he asked doubtfully.

"You callin G a liar?" Miguel asked angrily from where he sat on the ground near the door.

Daryl stormed over to him. "You part of this?" he demanded, smacking the kid across the head. "You wanna hold onto your teeth?"

The kid remained silent after that.

T-Dog looked at Daryl for a moment and then turned back to Rick. "Question is, do you trust that man's word?"

"No, the question is, whatcha willin to bet on it," said Daryl, who'd calmed down again. "Could be more 'n them guns—could be your life. Glenn worth that to you?"

"What, do you think Merle was worth that to us?" Jenna asked mildly, unable to keep her mouth shut any longer.

She met Daryl's glare with her own, not backing down. This was Glenn's life they were talking about, and it was worth more than a bag of guns. Glenn was a good guy, and despite only having met him a few days ago, Jenna knew that Glenn wouldn't leave one of them behind like that, at the mercy of a horde of dangerous men. As far as she was concerned, she owed Glenn a lot. He didn't have to offer her a place with his group. He didn't even have to give her and Thao a ride. He could've just been on his merry way with his newly running car and left it at that. He was a good person, and he did not deserve this.

There weren't many good people left in the world, and she was not about to walk away from one of them to leave them to die. The image of Glenn up on that rooftop, hands bound and duct tape over his mouth, terror in his eyes, would haunt her forever.

And the truth was, she already had enough haunting her, in any case.

"The life I have, I owe to him," said Rick to Daryl, drawing his attention again. "I was nobody to Glenn—just some idiot stuck in a tank. He coulda walked away, but he didn't. Neither will I," Rick declared, and Jenna made another mental tally of the third instance that they'd been on the same page so far that day.

"So, what—you're gonna hand the guns over?" Daryl asked, obviously displeased.

Rick just met Daryl's gaze for a moment. "I didn't say that."

And Jenna knew that this was going to get very ugly, very fast. The bloodbath was approaching quickly, and as much as she wanted to, she couldn't bow out now. She wasn't going to leave the rest of them to risk their necks while she dashed off to save her own skin.

"There's nothin keepin you three here," said Rick after a moment. "You should get out—head back to camp."

"And tell your family what?" T-Dog challenged, running a hand over his bald head.

Rick leveled his gaze at him for a long moment and then looked at Daryl and Jenna, seeing the resolution on their faces. None of them were backing down.

"Jenna, you should—" Rick began, but she cut him off.

"Like hell," she said adamantly.

Rick sighed and gave her a stern look. "I'm not arguin with you."

"Aren't you?" she retorted, and continued before he could protest again. "I owe Glenn too, and I'm not about to run off and leave the rest of you to put your lives on the line just so I can be in the clear. And it's not up to you. It's up to me. I've already decided—I'm in this."

"What about your little boy?" Rick demanded then, hitting her where it hurt.

She absorbed that, trying not to let the idea of never seeing Thao again cripple her. "If worse comes to worse, I know he's in good hands," she said eventually, thinking of Dusty and Jacki. "Same as your wife and _your_ little boy."

She and Rick glared at each other for a moment, until eventually, he just looked back down at the bag of guns, unzipping it and pulling out a pump-action shotgun, handing it to T-Dog while Daryl selected another. He wasn't happy about it, but he didn't need to be. The discussion was closed, and they needed to focus on the matter at hand.

"C'mon," Miguel urged, rising to his feet, "this is nuts—"

One look from Daryl had him sinking back down to a sitting position on the floor, and he ran his hands over his short hair in anxiety.

"Jus' do like G says," he pleaded helplessly.

"I wish we could, kid," muttered Jenna solemnly while the others prepared their guns. She checked the chamber of her Beretta again, just to be sure, and tucked it into her belt again. She leaned back against the wall, waiting for the onslaught in dismayed resignation. She didn't want to kill anyone. She didn't want to take someone's life to save another. She didn't _want_ to kill to survive... But she'd done it before, and she'd do it again if she had to. As much as she hated it, she'd do it again. It was a trade—the worst kind of trade there was—that would leave her with blood on her hands and memories to haunt her, if she survived, that was. But it was a trade they were all just going to have to make.

* * *

**Note: **So a little more of Jenna's past has been revealed. She's not exactly as innocent as she may seem. More details will be given in due time, but I assure you, it is not going to be a pretty picture.


	10. Eye of the Hurricane

**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing related to The Walking Dead. No copyright intended here.**

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and suggestive themes.

* * *

_"Our prime purpose in this life is to help others. And if you can't help them, at least don't hurt them."_

_—Dalai Lama_

* * *

Eye of the Hurricane

All too soon, they found themselves entering upon hostile territory once more, and that time, Jenna was among them. Unlike the other three, she held no shotgun, but stuck with her Beretta in her right hand, keeping a good hold on Miguel with her left. They'd duct taped his hands behind his back and tied a thick strip of cloth around his mouth to keep him quiet, and she held him in place by the back of the knot.

The large doors slid open slowly like the gates of hell, and they were met by a large group of angry men with guns.

Jenna, not about to murder the kid but definitely not about to display any sign of weakness, kept her Beretta leveled at Miguel's head, keeping her finger off the trigger for the time being. She hoped to God that these people didn't give her a reason to pull the trigger. Because no matter what she may have done in the past, murdering a kid was not something she was capable of.

The men studied them intently and looked Miguel up and down, apparently checking for injury, and then one of them jerked his head, motioning them to enter the building. Rick moved forward first, shotgun raised and ready to fire, and Jenna led Miguel in after him, Daryl and T-Dog close behind her.

She couldn't shake the feeling that they may as well have been ushered into hell by the Devil's guard dogs as they moved forward into the middle of what looked like a chop-shop.

Her eyes scanned the crowded area immediately, seeing at least twenty men glaring directly at the four of them, most of them aiming a gun in their direction, the rest of them holding a blunt instrument of some kind. She was not oblivious to the fact that, considering her hold on Miguel, a good portion of those guns were leveled at her. But, like Guillermo, who was slowly approaching them with what seemed to be his two wingmen at his flanks, this was not the first time she'd stared down a gun.

Even so, she'd never been in a situation quite like this. The vatos surrounded them from all sides as the doors closed again, barricading their exit. The tension was practically a living entity all its own.

"I see my guns," said Guillermo to Rick after studying Jenna with a scowl, "but they're not all in the bag."

"That's because they're not yours," Rick replied. "I thought I mentioned that."

The baldy from the alley shook his head. "Let's jus' shoot these fools right now, ese, alright?" he urged Guillermo. "Unload on their asses, ese!"

Guillermo put a hand out to calm his wingman, never taking his eyes away from Rick and the rest of them. "I don't think you fully appreciate the gravity of the situation," he said threateningly.

"No, I'm pretty clear," Rick argued. "You have our man, we have yours. Man for a man. Jenna," he said to her, "let him go."

Jenna kept her hold on the knot behind Miguel's head, not about to relax her grip, and kept her gaze fixed on Guillermo. "No," she said in a surprisingly level tone, speaking to both Guillermo and Rick. "This kid's not going anywhere until we see Glenn—_alive_."

Guillermo glowered at her, huffing a short breath of humorless laughter, before stepping forward, planting himself barely two feet away from Rick. The shotgun might as well have been a Super Soaker for all the fear Guillermo displayed.

Jenna was very aware that the only thing stopping these men from following Baldy's advice and unloading on them was the fact that they didn't want any blood from their side to be spilled. No matter how greatly they were outnumbered, they would go down shooting—the vatos knew that. Heart in her throat, Jenna wondered just how many people in this room would walk away from this alive if worse came to worse. And things seemed to be heading in that direction very quickly.

"I'm gonna chop up your boy," said Guillermo to Rick, murder in his eyes. "I'm gonna feed 'im to my dogs; three of the _evilest, nastiest, man-eatin_ bitches you ever saw. I picked em up from _Satan_ at a yard sale."

Rick merely glared back at Guillermo, no trace of submission in his eyes.

"I told you how it has to be," Guillermo continued angrily. "Are you willfully deaf?"

"My hearin's _fine_," replied Rick coolly. "You said come locked an' loaded"—He pumped a shell into the chamber of his shotgun and leveled the barrel to Guillermo's face at point-blank range, setting off a chain-reaction as the sound of guns of all kinds preparing for fire permeated the room. Jenna moved her finger over the trigger of her own gun, wondering how fast she could move the Beretta away from Miguel's head to aim at Baldy before she was inevitably hit by at least a few bullets.—"okay then, we're here."

She sent a silent prayer up to whatever God may exist that Thao would be safe without her from now on, and waited to see which side tossed the match into the combustible atmosphere. And then, out of nowhere—

"Felipe!" called an aged voice from somewhere behind the barrage of men with guns and blunt objects. "_Felipe!_"

Weaving around the many much larger bodies and looking entirely out of place, was a little old lady in a robe and nightgown, wearing fuzzy white slippers. _What the _fuck_…? _Was all Jenna's mind could come up with. She immediately lowered her gun, holding it down at her side, not about to fire a round anywhere near the old woman.

"Abuela!" said Baldy, sounding both anxious and frustrated. "Go back with the others."

The tiny old woman was not swayed, however, and walked right past the other men to the baldy whom Jenna now assumed to be Felipe. If the lady was aware of the many raised firearms around her, she sure as hell didn't show it.

"Get that old lady outta the line of fire," Daryl demanded tensely while Guillermo closed his eyes in apparent frustration.

"Abuela, listen to your mijo, okay?" Guillermo said, turning back to speak to her over his shoulder. "This is not the place for you right now."

"Mr. Gilbert," she said to Felipe, who had yet to lower his revolver. "He's having trouble breathing," she said fretfully. "He needs his asthma stuff—Carlito didn't find it! He needs his medicine," she urged her grandson.

Again, the only thought Jenna's mind could formulate was _what the fuck_?

Guillermo, who seemed to have had enough of this most strange of interludes, looked from Rick back toward the old lady. "Felipe, take care of it, okay?" he ordered impatiently. "And take your grandmother with you!"

While Jenna couldn't even begin to guess what the hell was going on, she could see that this little woman in the nightgown had just revealed a vulnerability that Guillermo had been trying to hide.

"Abuela," said Felipe, lowering his revolver and putting a hand on his grandmother's shoulder to lead her away, "ven conmigo, por favor."

The little old lady seemed to have other ideas, however, as she finally seemed to take in the details of her surroundings, spotting the four strangers with guns among the rest. Only, she didn't look afraid in the slightest. If anything, Jenna would have guessed that she looked a little…angry.

"Who are they?" she asked curiously, waving a hand in their direction.

"No, por favor, Abuela," urged Felipe as she started to move toward them.

She just waved a hand at her grandson dismissively and walked right up to Rick, who lowered his shotgun immediately. She was extremely small—even smaller than Jenna, and that was saying something. Even so, she placed herself right between he and Guillermo, completely unafraid of the stranger with the shotgun.

"Don't you take him," she chastised angrily.

"Ma'am?" Rick asked in confusion.

"Felipe's a good boy," she defended. "He have his trouble, but he pull himself together. We need him here," she said imploringly.

Jenna looked from Rick in his sheriff's uniform to the little old lady. _Does she seriously think…? _

"Ma'am," said Rick after a moment, leaning down a bit to speak to her, "I'm not here to arrest your grandson."

"Then what do you want him for?" she asked, puzzled.

Oh, how to explain _that_ one? Jenna really couldn't see this woman taking the truth very well. In any case, she didn't seem to be all together aware of the state of the world, if she believed that police were still making arrests in the city. But Rick, surprising and impressing Jenna a bit, handled things in a very tactful matter, which was actually quite clever.

"He's…helpin us find a missin person," Rick decided carefully. "Fella named Glenn."

A small smile adorned her aged face as she peered up at Rick. "The Asian boy?" she asked, a fond note in her voice.

Jenna's heart skipped a beat—did that mean Glenn was indeed alive?

"He's with Mr. Gilbert," the lady said, as though that had been quite obvious. "Come, come…I'll show you…" she urged with a wave of her hand, gesturing Rick to follow her as she wove back through the rest of the vatos. "He needs his medicine."

Guillermo sighed in defeat, shaking his head. "Let em pass," he said to the others.

Jenna released her hold on Miguel, glad to be able to free the hostage, and gave him a gentle shove in the direction of his comrades, who released him from his binds immediately. Still, she held her Beretta at her side, cocked and ready to fire, just in case. There were many, _many_ men here, and she was grateful for the chivalry this time when T-Dog ushered her in front of him so that she wasn't trailing behind, but instead situated between he and Daryl.

Following the old lady, who was leading Rick by the hand, they exited the warehouse and crossed through what looked like a little patio garden, complete with a small table and matching set of chairs, on their way to an adjacent building. Stepping through the front doors, Jenna realized it was a nursing home.

"Abuela, por favor," said Felipe, coming up to her other side. "Take me to him."

His grandmother took his hand and led him down the hallway, and he limped along, his right hand holding a rag over his wounded ass cheek. Seeing that the hostility had all but evaporated, Jenna clicked the hammer of her Beretta back into place and switched the safety on before stowing the gun away in the back of her belt. She kept her hand on the wooden handle of the machete secured at her right hip while they continued through the halls a little ways behind Felipe and his grandmother, looking through the doorways of the many rooms they passed. Many elderly folks were being cared for, like it was just another day in the nursing home.

Eventually, they entered what seemed to have doubled as the cafeteria and the bingo room, to find a group of people standing around an old man in a wheelchair—Glenn among them, looking just as concerned as the others. He looked completely unharmed and untroubled—a stark contrast to the last image Jenna had of him up on that rooftop barely more than an hour ago.

"What the hell is this?" Rick asked Glenn in bewilderment while Felipe helped the old man, whom Jenna presumed was Mr. Gilbert, to start breathing regularly again.

"Asthma attack," Glenn answered, misunderstanding the question. "Couldn't get his breath all of a sudden."

"We thought you were bein eaten by _dogs_, man," T-Dog griped accusingly.

Glenn frowned in puzzlement and looked over his shoulder. Jenna leaned to the side to peer around him and spotted three angry-looking Chihuahuas all nestled together in a fluffy cheetah print bed small enough for a cat. One of them ventured forward a step to emit a high-pitched bark before retreating backward and reclaiming its spot between the other two.

_Man-eatin_, alright.

"For the love of God," Jenna muttered in a breath, running a hand through her hair in exasperation. All of that trouble. All of that tension. They'd gotten so near to a vicious onslaught, only to find _this_? How many people would've been massacred because of…whatever the hell this was?

"Can I have a word?" Rick asked Guillermo then, and led him several feet away from Mr. Gilbert and Abuela. "You have got to be the dumbest son of a bitch I ever met—we walked in there ready to kill every last one of you," he said in a harsh undertone.

"I'm glad it didn't go down that way," said Guillermo sincerely.

"If it had, that blood would be on _my_ hands," said Rick sharply.

"_Mine_ too," defended Guillermo. "We'da fought back. Wouldn't be the first time we've had to. Protect the food, the medicine—what's left of it." He glanced over in Mr. Gilbert's direction. "These people, the old ones—the staff jus' took off an' left em here to _die_."

Jenna thought of Thao and sighed, shaking her head. She glanced over at Mr. Gilbert too, seeing how frail he and Abuela were. These people were trapped in the heart of the city—one of the worst places a person could find themselves in—and they were stuck here. They were too good to leave the elderly patients behind for their own safety, and there was no hope of getting them out of the city, frail as they were. No wonder they were so hostile.

"Me an' Felipe were the only ones who stayed," said Guillermo solemnly.

"What are you?" asked Rick in puzzlement. "Doctors?"

Guillermo shook his head, seeming to find that amusing. "Naw, Felipe's a nurse," he explained, "special care provider." Jenna studied the bald man with the scorpion tattoo on his head with a raised brow. "Me…I'm the custodian."

Jenna studied Guillermo with newfound interest then. A man from the wrong side of the tracks, working a dead-end job, had stepped up to organize all of this… The effect of this new, brutal world was a double-edged sword; while it brought out the absolute worst in many, in a few, it brought out the very best.

Guillermo led them off to the side of the spacious room, presumably to talk to them in private. He seated himself on one of the tables, and they made themselves comfortable around him to listen to what he had to say. Rick set the bag of guns down on the table between them, since it was obvious that it didn't need to be protected from theft any longer. A certain amount of mutual trust had been granted on both sides already.

Jenna, deeming it safe enough within the walls of the building, shed her leather jacket and tossed it on the table—it had to be ninety degrees still, even in the evening hours—and leaned against the wall beside Glenn and Daryl. T-Dog, whose ribs were still sore from the beating he received from Merle the day before, settled himself into a seat among them.

"What about the rest of your crew?" Rick asked Guillermo.

"The vatos trickle in," he explained. "Check on their parents, their grandparents. They see how things are, an' most decide to stay. It's a good thing too—we need the muscle. The people we've encountered since things fell apart…the worse kind. Plunderers. The kind that take by force," he added pointedly.

Rick shook his head. "That's not who we are," he said sincerely.

"How was I to know?" defended Guillermo. "My people got attacked, an' you show up with Miguel hostage—_appearances_."

Jenna decided not to point out that Glenn had been taken hostage for two reasons; things had been settled and the massacre had been avoided, and now she could see how both sides had been attacked in one way or another. Each side had seen the other as the aggressor and reacted defensively.

"Guess the world changed…" mused T-Dog solemnly.

"No," Guillermo contradicted. "It's the same as it ever was…the weak get taken. So we do what we can here. The vatos work on those cars, talk about getting the old people outta the city. But most can't even get to the bathroom by themselves, so that's just a dream. Still, it keeps the crew busy, an' that's worth somethin. So we barred all the windows, welded all the doors shut except for one entrance. The vatos, they go out, scavenge what they can to keep us goin. We watch the perimeter _night and day_, an' we wait."

Guillermo paused and shook his head slightly. "The people here…they all look to me know. I don't even know why," he said with a helpless shrug.

"Because they can," said Rick truthfully, and Jenna found that they were thinking concurrently once again—tally number four.

As much as they butted heads for only just meeting, Jenna had to admit that it wasn't exactly a _rare_ occurrence for them to be thinking along the same lines. Hmm. Perhaps the discord between them stemmed from his obvious habitual role as leader, and her familiarity with being on her own, calling all the shots and answering to no one—no one but Thao, anyway.

Rick held out the pump-action shotgun for Guillermo to take, and after a moment of hesitation, he did accept the offering. Rick then proceeded to set a few more guns down on the table at Guillermo's side, including the Browning Automatic Jenna had used earlier.

Jenna was glad that, rather than having to murder any of these people, they had ended things in such a way that both sides knew they could trust each other.

On their way out, heading back through the chop-shop of sorts, Jenna tapped Miguel on the shoulder as they passed him.

"Sorry for strangling you, punk ass," she said with a smirk. He just laughed slightly and nodded, looking down at the ground and shuffling his feet while the older men around him laughed. "No hard feelings?" she asked.

Miguel looked up then and smirked slightly. "Naw—we're good."

She nodded, clapping him on the shoulder lightly, and exited with Glenn and T-Dog through the large back doors, pulling on her jacket again.

It was a long trek back to the tracks, and Jenna was just glad that the temperature was finally starting to drop. The damn Georgia heat was worse than she'd imagined it would be weeks ago.

Daryl was mostly quiet, looking surly but oddly resigned. He'd declined Rick's offer to search a few blocks around the department store like they'd originally planned. Jenna wondered if Daryl had forced himself to cut the tie between he and his brother already, since that would be a hell of a lot easier than hanging on in the vain hope that if he was ever found, he'd be alive. Daryl was tough—as tough as he claimed his brother to be—and Jenna doubted if there was anything that man couldn't get through.

"Admit it," said Glenn as they neared the tracks on the fringes of the city, Mossberg Persuader in hand, "you only came back to Atlanta for the hat," he accused Rick jokingly.

Rick smirked slightly. "Don't tell anybody."

"Might as well have," grumbled Daryl bitterly. "You've given away half our guns an' ammo."

"Not nearly half," Rick defended.

"For what?" Daryl continued as though he hadn't heard Rick. "Buncha old farts that're gonna die momentarily anyhow? Seriously, how long d'you think they got?"

"How long to any of us?" asked Rick mildly.

They came to a stop before the chain-link fencing they'd slipped through that morning when they spotted the tracks—and _only_ the tracks. The Ferenc truck was nowhere in sight, which made absolutely no sense…

"Oh my God…" breathed Glenn in disbelief.

"Where the hell's our van?" Daryl wondered.

"We left it right there—who would take it?" Glenn asked.

"Merle," said Rick in what sounded strikingly similar to a growl.

Jenna wasn't sure how convinced of that prospect she was. What were the odds that Merle would've made it that far from the department store to this exact location, blood loss notwithstanding? On the other hand, the truck would've had to have been hotwired, which he was more than capable of doing, but so were a lot of people. But, if it _was_ Merle…

"He's gonna be takin some vengeance back to camp," mused Daryl in a quiet, apprehensive voice, speaking Jenna's thoughts exactly.

"C'mon," Rick urged them, and they set off at a jog up the road.

Jenna hoped that Shane and the others back at camp were prepared to handle a very vindictive Merle Dixon.


	11. Cries in the Night

**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing related to The Walking Dead. No copyright intended here. **

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and suggestive themes.

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_"Goodnight, sleep tight, don't let the dead bite."_

_—Hollywood Undead_

* * *

Cries in the Night

It wasn't until dark that they reached the winding dirt road that trailed up the canyon toward the quarry. Still, they had a long way to go. They'd been fortunate enough to not run into any trouble along the way—living or otherwise—and Jenna was seriously starting to doubt whether Merle could've made it this far in his condition anyway. Even if he'd been driving the whole way, he was in bad shape.

So far, they'd remained at a jog, each of them panting in exertion. How far away from the city was the quarry, exactly? Jenna had no idea, but her lungs felt like they'd been worked over with sandpaper, in any case. She longed for the sleeping bag in Dusty's tent. Even the hollow feeling in her empty stomach couldn't curb her desire for sleep.

But then, the sound of gunfire echoed in the distance—and the fact that it hadn't ended at just one shot had Jenna bursting from a jog to an all-out sprint.

She wasn't aware of Rick and the others—whether they were behind her or running with her, she didn't know, and she doubted whether she would've noticed them if they were in front of her—but she was aware that the closer she got to camp, the more she could hear the distinct sound of screaming along with the gunfire. The fact that she didn't know whether or not Thao was safe and unharmed had her streaking up the dirt road at a speed she would've never dreamed herself capable of.

And as she came upon the edge of the camp, she was met with absolute chaos.

It was a swarm, and pandemonium was in full flux. People were being ripped apart by rotting corpses, blood was spilling in all directions. There were more of the dead than there were living, and that ratio was remaining fairly consistent as both sides continued to lose numbers. For every walker that was put down, a living person was torn into.

Thao was nowhere in sight. He was not one of the many campers running about the area, nor was he one of the many being eaten alive. He was not among the small group that was backed up against the RV behind Shane. He wasn't _anywhere_.

Pulling the Beretta from her belt, Jenna rushed right into the mayhem, shooting down walkers as she went. Before she knew it, she'd emptied her clip.

Not about to stop and reload, she just stuffed the gun into her belt and pulled her machete free.

She couldn't find Thao! And there was no possible way to search for him with the way things were. So she continued to help the others take down the walkers, knowing that the faster they were eliminated, the faster she could seek out her boy, all the while keeping an eye out just in case she spotted him. And all the while, she struggled to keep the mounting dread and anxiety for his life from crippling her—no easy feat, that. And it certainly didn't help that no matter how many walkers they killed, there were plenty more to take their place.

Down by the fire pit, Gabe was busy smashing the skulls of the walkers that were tearing into Tito—and completely unaware of the two approaching behind him.

Not wasting time or breath, Jenna sped forward and barreled her shoulder into one's side with enough force to knock it into the other, sending them both tumbling over. She ended them with the blade of her machete, and spun around, searching for more.

Seeing a group of three walkers crouched over a bloody mass that Jenna couldn't see clearly, she dashed off in their direction next. The bloody mass wasn't very big—definitely not the size of an adult—and the fact that she still hadn't seen Thao anywhere had her seeing red. That could _not_ be Thao. It just _couldn't_. But she had to see that for herself.

Coming upon them, she swung out her machete with such force that the blade nearly sliced through the skull completely at a downward slant. Not pausing, she twisted the handle and yanked to free the blade and swung in the other direction at an upward angle that time, taking out the second at her right. The third lunged at her and its long arms grasped onto her stomach, squeezing her ribs over the thick leather of her jacket. Blood and gore fell from its open mouth while it snarled at her.

Hiking her right knee up, she brought her leg up in the space between herself and the very skinny walker and planted her foot into its ribs, forcing it stumbling backward with one solid kick. The fingers, which had withered down to the bone at the tips, lost their hold on her jacket.

With one swing, she brought things to an end as the blade of the machete cracked through the rotting corpse's skull.

It collapsed onto the ground in a heap, and she yanked her machete free before kicking the disgusting thing off of the bloody mass it had been tearing into just moments before she'd interrupted the meal.

It wasn't Thao.

The reason for the small size of the bloody mess was evident to Jenna now that she could see it clearly—it was only half a body. One of the women of their group—her name was Tamara, if Jenna remembered correctly.

"Dusty—_look out_!"

Jenna turned her head in response to the frantic command that rang out sharp and clear over all of the mayhem in time to see a boy with a trucker's hat dive at a particularly large walker, as though he were merely on a football field preventing a touchdown.

"Tyler, _no_!" Jenna yelled—far too late.

The boy had succeeded in knocking the large walker in coveralls away from Dusty, but had brought himself down with it as they rolled across the ground at a slight downward slope. Jenna ran toward him as fast as she could, hoping in vain that she might be able to save him before he was lost too. But when the much larger frame of the walker ended up on top at the end of the roll, all hope she had for Tyler's life diminished, though she didn't stop running.

"Tyler!" Dusty screamed in terror as she lurched forward and rushed to help him, even as the boy hollered in obvious agony.

Seeing that Dusty was completely unarmed, Jenna increased her speed, desperate to keep her from becoming that walker's next victim. Tyler's screams cut off in harsh, gurgled choking, and as Jenna neared the scene, she could see why—the walker had ripped away the majority of the boy's throat, and blood was gushing out in a violent red torrent.

He was dead as soon as Jenna reached Dusty, just in time to grab her by the arm and swing her around, away from the horrific scene. She struggled out of Jenna's hold, but Jenna held tight, not about to let her get herself killed.

"Dusty, _Dusty_—he's gone!" Jenna said intently, knowing she needed to instill that understanding in and do it _fast_. "He's gone, Dusty," she repeated in a less harsh tone as the sounds of chaos and tumult all around them began to die down. "I'm sorry, he's gone."

Dusty threw her head back and howled in grief, and Jenna looked around the immediate area quickly, scanning for danger. She then released the sobbing girl and gripped the handle of her machete tighter as she approached the large walker that was making a meal of what had once been a playful, smart-aleck kid. She brought the blade careening down until it was embedded into the thing's skull, and yanked the blade out when it stilled and slumped over on top of Tyler's body.

With an angry grunt of exertion, Jenna shoved the rotting corpse with her booted foot, sending it rolling over onto its back beside Tyler. She looked down at the boy, trying not to look at his shredded and mangled throat. With a heavy sigh, she knelt down and closed his eyes.

She returned to Dusty's side, who'd been looking on in tears, and wrapped her arms around the girl. Dusty sobbed into her shoulder, and she looked around at the rest of the camp—all of the walkers seemed to have been put down.

"Dusty," said Jenna urgently, holding her out by the shoulders, locking eyes with her. "_Dusty_," she said, giving her a slight shake to get her attention. "Where's Thao?"

She turned to point toward the RV, where Shane was lowering his Mossberg, the small group standing behind him. "He's with Carol an'—" She broke off when she too saw that Thao was not among that group. "He was _right there_!" she cried frantically, pointing at the RV.

"You're sure?" Jenna asked intently, hoping to God that she was.

Dusty nodded quickly, her eyes wide in fright. "I swear to God, Jacki an' I left him right there with Carol an' Lori behind Shane to go an' help the others," she rambled in panic. "We told him to stay _right there_! We told him!"

Without another word, Jenna darted over to the RV, weaving through the severely diminished crowd of living campers. Was he there? Was there hope of finding him alive? He was smart, and she'd taught him what to do in the most dangerous situations. He'd never actually had to follow those instructions without her, though, and he was a five-year-old child. Who was to say that panic and fright hadn't gotten the better of him? But he _had_ to be there. There was no other option.

"Jenna, I'm so sorry—" Carol said in a trembling voice as she approached the RV.

Jenna paid her no mind as she wove around her and Shane right up to the side of the RV, unaware of the curious eyes that were following her. She lowered down onto all fours to peer beneath the vehicle, half hopeful, half terrified of what she would find—or what she _wouldn't_ find.

"Thao?" she called gently as lowered her head to gaze into the dark space between the bottom of the RV and the ground.

Two big, black eyes stared back at her, wide with fear. Eyes she knew better than her own.

"Baby boy," she sighed, washed over with a fierce wave of relief. She held her hand out to him. "It's alright, sweetheart," she murmured gently, panting in combined relief and exhaustion. "It's alright—you can come out now."

He crawled toward her and she pulled him out as soon as he was within reach. On her knees still, she clasped his small frame within her arms, feeling the warmth of his living body and the rapid beat of his pumping heart. He wrapped his arms around her neck in return, clinging to her with all he had while he cried.

She pulled back and held him out at arm's length, looking him over intently. "Are you okay?" she asked him, checking his arms and turning his chin from side to side to answer that question herself. "Did anything get you, sweetheart?"

He shook his head while she continued to give him a good scan for injury. She was hit by another wave of relief when none could be found.

She looked up at him then, seeing tears spilling over his cheeks, and sighed heavily as she scooped him up into her arms and held him close once more, rising to her feet. Thao buried his face into her shoulder and cried quietly, wrapping his small frame around her upper body, clinging tighter than ever before.

"Shhh…" she soothed in a whisper, stroking his hair and swaying on her feet in a gentle rocking motion. "You're safe, sweetheart, nothing's gonna hurt you."

A little ways away from the RV, Rick had both Carl and Lori wrapped in his arms, almost weeping in his own fierce relief at their safety. The others were looking around the blood-stained campsite with wide eyes, beginning to really come to terms with the severity of the situation now that things had calmed.

And then, the shrieks of terror that had flooded the camp just a minute before were replaced by mournful weeping all around as people took note of exactly how many had been lost.

Dusty and Jacki were down near T-Dog, holding each other like frightened children while they cried. Carol had her arms wrapped around Sophia in a vice grip while the little girl began to choke with sobs. Shane stared around at all of the bodies that littered the campground, a look of haunted bewilderment in his eyes. Daryl glared at the fallen walkers spitefully, and Glenn looked close to tears himself.

They'd lost more than half of their group, Jenna realized as she looked around at those still standing.

"_Amy!_"

Jenna turned her head to the left to see Andrea kneeling on the ground beside her sister, shaking her shoulders as though trying to bring her back to life.

"_Amy!_" she sobbed in agony, and Jenna closed her eyes, not wanting to watch.

When Thao began to turn his head in response to Andrea's weeping, which rang out louder than the rest, Jenna placed her hand over his head to keep it in place. He'd already seen way too much in the past few weeks, and he didn't need to see _this_ too. This was not an image he needed to have burned into his memory.

Jim, who was standing not far from Jenna's right and covered with spatters of blood from head to toe, turned to look at Shane. "I remember my dream now," he said to the other man, who seemed to understand a lot more from this statement than Jenna did. "Why I dug the holes…" he added, and his wide, haunted eyes turned to look around at all the carnage.

The weeping only seemed to grow in volume, echoing and gaining strength, becoming a force all its own.

* * *

**Note: **Sorry this one's so short, guys, but I hope it has enough action in it to compensate.


	12. Scar Tissue

**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing related to The Walking Dead—swear to Buddha. **

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and suggestive themes.

**Note: **A little more about Jenna will be revealed in this chapter, and this starts out in Shane's point of view. Sorry again if that's annoying to you, but that's the way I work.

**P.S.: **I'm only realizing now that I should've probably cleared up this little detail before, but the H in Thao's name is silent. My bad, folks.

* * *

_"There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds."_

_—Laurell K. Hamilton_

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Scar Tissue

_SPOV_

Shane sat on one of the logs around the fire pit, still trying to come to terms with everything that had just happened hours ago. Half the camp had been lost to the attack the night before. He hadn't felt so helpless in a long time, and it wasn't sitting well with him at all. It had been a mistake having no one up on watch last night, leaving everyone vulnerable to the surprise mob of walkers. So for that, he was to blame—he knew that. He should have taken better precautions, and because he hadn't lives were lost. But he couldn't deny that he thought Rick was partially to blame as well. If he hadn't gone off on a rescue mission for a drug dealer and taken half their manpower with him, then things wouldn't have been so bad.

Looking up at the RV in the near distance, he spotted Jenna coming through the door. Thao moved to follow her, but she halted him with one minute gesture of her hand. He stood at the steps in the RV, and she knelt down to be more at level with him. She looked over to her left briefly, toward where Andrea sat beside Amy's body, and then looked back up at Thao, shaking her head. She kissed his forehead and then nodded over his shoulder, indicating for him to get back inside.

Jenna straightened up and looked over at Andrea and Amy again for a long moment, and then picked up her machete leaning against the RV and wandered over to the remaining carnage just a short distance away.

Shane sighed, looking back at Andrea for the umpteenth time. Something needed to be done, and it needed to be done soon. Amy would wake up as a walker, and then they would have to kill her before she bit anyone else. With Andrea in the state she was in, that would be hard to do, but it needed to be done, if she wasn't going to do it herself. Lori had already tried to talk to her, but it didn't seem to have an effect. This was Andrea's sister, though. Her last living family. This was going to be no easy matter. Not that it should have been.

God, if only he hadn't been so stupid the night before—maybe Amy would've still been alive. Maybe they _all_ would've still been alive.

He got to his feet, unable to sit back and watch others clean up the carnage of the travesty that had occurred last night. Occurred on his watch. If anyone should have had to clear away all the bloodshed, then it should've been him—him and Rick. Shane was caught somewhere in between being thankful that his best friend was alive and well, and furious at him for leaving them all defenseless in the first place. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, so to speak. It wasn't a good feeling.

He wandered around the other side of the RV to the lower part of the camp, where Morales, T-Dog, Daryl, and Glenn were busy gathering bodies and separating them into groups. The walkers would be burned, their own people would be buried.

Daryl was going around, driving a pickaxe into the skulls of all of the fallen for good measure. A little further down, Dusty and Jenna were dealing with more bodies. Together they dragged a fallen walker to the burn pile, having a bit of difficulty with the weight of a dead body between them. They managed to get it to the pile though, and Shane decided to go and help them with the next.

As he drew nearer, he saw that it was Tyler's body they were dealing with now. He shook his head. That boy—seventeen years old, not yet a man—should not have had to die yet. None of them should have.

Dusty reached down to grip his shoulders while Jenna went to grab his legs, and suddenly, his eyes snapped open along with his mouth. A guttural, choked-off snarl forced its way out of his shredded throat, and Shane burst into a sprint. He'd come back as a walker, and Dusty was _way_ too close to his face.

Dusty screamed and Jenna dropped his legs, rushing over and knocking the other girl out of the grasping hands of the boy who'd been alive just hours ago.

"Go, just go, it's alright," Jenna urged Dusty, pulling the machete from her belt.

Before Shane or the others could get there, Jenna swung the machete, and the blade careened downward, cracking into Tyler's skull. She pulled the blade out and flicked off the blood, and then looked up at the rest of them, who were now hovering around, looking on in shock.

"I got it, it's alright," she told them, and looked over at Dusty, who was sitting propped on her hands in the dirt. "You alright?" she asked, pulling the girl to her feet.

Dusty nodded, looking at Tyler's body with wide eyes.

"I'll help her," Shane told Dusty, who was still very shaken. "Why don't you go sit down an' rest up a bit, okay? I got it."

Dusty nodded again and made her way back up to the fire pit. Shane turned to Jenna, who was knelt down by Tyler's head, peering at his face. She shook her head and closed his eyes, head hanging down for a moment.

"You alright?" he asked, coming to kneel at her side.

She nodded. "Yeah, I'm alright," she said quietly. "He was such a punk-ass, you know? There were so many times I was ready to smack him upside the head…but I never wanted this. No one here deserves this."

Shane nodded in understanding and patted her shoulder, noticing when she tensed slightly in response before relaxing again. He'd forgotten that Jenna didn't seem to like being taken by surprise, whether physical or not. She'd tensed up like that after he'd gone to make sure Merle wasn't harassing her, and clapped her on the shoulder when she'd voiced her plans of leaving.

"C'mon," he said, standing up and moving to the side to give her some room. "Let's get him up with the others."

She moved around to grab his legs again while Shane lifted him up by the shoulders. Together, they brought his body to the enlarging group of dead campers.

"Thank you," she said after they'd both straightened up again.

He looked up at her as she wiped the sweat from her brow with a black bandana and stowed it away in her back pocket. She looked thoroughly exhausted, but then again, she had every reason to be. She'd spent most of the previous day down in the city, and that was enough on its own. Then she'd had to run back up to the hills, and joined in to take down all the walkers that had invaded camp. No one had slept last night.

"No problem," he said, looking back down at the pile of bodies, and realized only then that they'd lain Tyler down beside Dillon. Two boys, about to be buried long before their time.

"I meant thank you for everything you did last night," Jenna replied, and he looked up at her in question. "You kept them safe. You kept Thao safe when I wasn't there. 'Thank you' isn't enough, but it's all I've got."

He shook his head. "'Thank you' is more 'n enough, Jenna," he told her honestly. "More 'n I deserve, to tell you the truth," he confessed.

Her jade eyes locked with his for a prolonged moment, and he had the unnerving feeling of being seen right through, as though he were as transparent as glass. It was unsettling, but he realized there was no judgment in her gaze, and was able to relax a bit.

"This wasn't your fault, Shane," her soft voice toned.

He might as well have been glass clear after all.

He shook his head again and ran a hand through his hair. "Half of these people are dead because I was so careless."

"That's one way to look at it," she replied, running her left hand under her nose out of what he'd gathered was a habit of hers. "The way I see it, these people are alive because you acted so quickly. You got them all behind you with nothing but the RV at your back, and because of that, they're alive right now."

She looked over at the camp center, where Andrea was still sitting beside Amy's body.

"Maybe if five of us hadn't been down in the city, things might not have been so bad," she continued, voicing his own thoughts. "Or maybe they would have been worse. Maybe many more would've died, if we hadn't come back with ammo."

Acting a bit out of character, Jenna reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder gently, looking up at him with earnestness in her eyes.

"No matter which way you look at it, you saved a good portion of these people."

He nodded after a moment, finding that he was unable—or maybe just unwilling—to argue with her, and she lowered her hand. They both turned their gaze back to Andrea to see that Rick was approaching her. When he was right at her side, she suddenly aimed a gun directly at his face, and Shane's heart crashed to a halt.

Rick reacted in the safest way possible, freezing his movement and then putting his hands up as he slowly backed away. When he was a safe distance away, Andrea lowered her gun and turned her gaze back to Amy.

Jenna looked back at him for a moment, sighed slightly, and began making her way to the fire pit where Dusty was sitting with Rick, Dale, and Lori. Shane walked with her, wanting to discuss things with Rick. As hard as it was, something needed to be done about Amy. With Andrea in the state she was in, that would be a very difficult task, but that didn't change the fact that they needed to do something. He just wondered how they would go about it. Maybe Rick had an idea.

"She still won't move," Rick said to Shane in an undertone as they approached, looking over at Andrea.

"She won't even talk to us," said Lori. "She's been there all night…what do we do?"

"We can't just leave Amy like that," said Shane quietly, hating what he needed to say next. "I hate to say this, but we need to deal with it…same as the others…"

Jenna shook her head. "No, _we_ don't need to deal with it…she does…" she said, and everyone looked at her incredulously. "It's not our place to do it. Amy was Andrea's sister, not yours or mine. Let her do it, and don't rush her."

With that, Jenna moved to make her way over to Andrea, and Rick reached out and caught her by the arm. She reacted on what seemed to be an instinctive level, and yanked her arm away and took a step back from him, keeping her eyes fixed on him all the while. Rick put his hands up in a demonstration of peace, wanting her to know that he meant no harm. Apparently, Rick hadn't exactly had the time to pick up on those particular qualities about Jenna, failing to notice that she did not like to be touched or even approached by surprise. She didn't trust men very easily, which had probably served her very well before she'd joined them. A small young woman on her own with a child to look after made for a very easy victim.

Jenna looked Rick up and down intently for a moment longer, and then continued on her way to Andrea. Rick didn't stop her that time, and they watched as she neared the older woman, and knelt down beside her in a gentle motion. Her voice carried just enough for Shane to be able to make out the soft tones.

"It feels impossible… You're stuck somewhere between wanting this…in between period to last, and wanting it to be over and done with. I don't need to tell you what this feels like though…you know." Jenna's head lowered again for a moment. "In the first couple weeks of all this, I found myself in the exact same place you are now…with my brother."

Lori gasped slightly, and Shane's heart sank a bit. Dusty put her hand over her mouth and closed her eyes. Shane felt suddenly that they were all being rather invasive, listening in on a conversation not meant for them to hear. But at the same time, he couldn't _not_ listen.

Andrea looked up at Jenna for a moment, and then back down at Amy.

"The whole time, I felt like I couldn't do it. I didn't think I'd be able to do it, but I knew that I had to. Because there was no I way I was letting my little brother turn into something that wasn't even him…something that was just a cruel mockery of the person he used to be. There was no one else with us, so it was just him and I. I had to be the one to do it, no matter what. And honestly, I don't think I would have let anyone else do it either. Because it wouldn't have been their place. He was my brother, not theirs.

"It feels impossible, but you'll know when the time is right. Somehow, you'll just…you'll know. So there's no rush here. We won't do it before you're ready…we won't do it at all. You will."

Jenna and Andrea locked eyes for a long moment that seemed to stretch on forever, and finally, Jenna nodded lightly, rose to her feet again, and laid a hand on Andrea's shoulder gently before leaving the woman to mourn.

She stepped into the RV, presumably to check on Thao, and then exited again before picking up her machete and going back to help Jacki and Glenn with the remaining bodies. Shane felt like he should talk to her, but knew that there were no words to make anything okay again in this situation. And he didn't think that she would want to hear any words of comfort anyway. There was still so much that he didn't know about Jenna, but he did know that one piece of the puzzle had fallen into place just now.

Daryl approached them at the fire pit, pickaxe in hand, looking around at them incredulously, and their brief trance of shock and sympathy vanished.

"Y'all can't be serious," he said, looking between Shane and Rick. "You can't let that girl hamstring us," he went on, gesturing at Andrea. "The dead girl's a _time bomb_."

"Well, what d'you suggest?" Rick asked.

"Take the shot," Daryl replied intently, and made a shooting gesture to his own head. "Clean, in the brain. Hell, I can hit a turkey between the eyes from this distance—"

"No," said Lori firmly, and Daryl turned his gaze to her. "For God's sake, let her be," she said, sitting back down beside Dusty.

Daryl looked from Rick to Shane again, seeing the agreement in their expressions, and shook his head in disgust, spitting as he turned and walked away. Shane looked around at the camp and spotted Jenna near the group of their dead, seeming to be inspecting them. When she moved the arm of one—Rodger—off of Millie's head and cracked her machete down on Millie's skull, he realized what she was doing. She was making sure none of them would be waking up as walkers, same as Dixon had been doing earlier with the pickaxe.

Unable to stand back and watch Jenna take this burden upon herself alone, Shane made his way over to her, approaching as she split through the skull of old Lennie. Wordlessly, he picked up a shovel and helped her finish off the rest.

"Sorry about your brother," he said after they'd finished.

Her eyes rose to meet his briefly, and she just nodded in acknowledgement before giving her machete a small, quick swing to flick off the blood.

"You didn't have to do this alone, you know," he added after a moment. "You could've asked for help, Jenna."

"I didn't need help," she answered, securing her machete to her belt once more. "But thank you for coming to help anyway. Just thought I'd take care of it before anyone else had to."

Shane nodded, contemplating. "You don't always have to be the one to do the hard part, you know."

She was silent for a moment, looking off into the distance, also contemplating. Her eyes met his for a moment and then she looked back toward camp. "I've been there," she said, nodding her head, and he followed her gaze to see Andrea sitting beside Amy. He looked back at Jenna, beginning to follow her point. "This isn't so hard for me anymore," she explained, looking down at the fallen victims.

Shane was silent, unable to find any words to respond with to that. How horrible must it have been to get to the point where cracking a machete into the skulls of their dead—people they'd known, who'd been alive just hours ago—wasn't so hard? But, he guessed that if she'd been in Andrea's situation, if she'd had to keep her own brother from coming back as a walker…if she was tough enough to get through that, she was certainly tough enough to withstand this.

"Do you know where Roy McFadden is?" Jenna asked after a moment, snapping Shane out of his musings.

He frowned in puzzlement. "No, why?"

"I haven't seen him since I left with Daryl and the others yesterday, and I haven't seen his body lying anywhere," she replied, looking around the campsite, and then waving a hand at the pile of bodies at their feet. "And he's not here, or in the burn pile."

Shane studied the pile and then scanned his eyes around camp, finding that Roy was nowhere in sight. He hadn't noticed until now.

"Maybe he's in his tent—or maybe he took off last night," Shane suggested, "to save himself."

"Maybe," she said quietly, seeming to be spacing out a bit.

He followed her gaze to see that she was looking at Dusty, who was sitting on the ground near the fire pit, arms wrapped around her legs. Shane assumed she was still thinking about Tyler. That little surprise while lifting his dead body must've shaken her like crazy. For all of their bickering and jaunting, Shane knew that Dusty had been really very fond of Tyler—looked at him like the little brother she'd never had. Dusty, like Shane himself, had lost her whole family very early on when the outbreak hit. She'd found an older sister in Jacki, and a little sister in Sophia. And now, seemed to have found another one in Jenna, and a mother of sorts in Carol. It must've been hard to see the little family she'd found diminishing so suddenly.

"You reap what you sow!" said Daryl suddenly as he and Morales dragged Tito's body toward the row Shane and Jenna stood beside.

"You know what? Shut up, man," said Gabe angrily.

Daryl dropped his hold on Tito's right shoulder, and the extra weight slipped out of Gabe's hands as the body fell onto the ground with a thud.

"Y'all left my brother for _dead_!" Daryl spat at the group angrily as he strode around. "You had this _comin_!" he declared, pointing at the row of dead campers before storming off.

At Shane's left, Jenna sighed and ran a hand through her hair haphazardly, her face turned up toward the sky, eyes closed, as if seeking divine intervention of some kind—or maybe just patience. He really couldn't blame her. They really didn't need any of Dixon's tantrums at the moment.

"Sorry 'bout Dixon," said Shane. "I'd say you get used to 'im, but then I'd be lyin."

"He lost his brother," she said with a sigh, her tone one of understanding. "Hell, to him, Rick all but killed Merle. In his own way, he's mourning." Then she shook her head and ran a hand through her abundant hair again. "Just wish he'd be a bit more tactful about it," she muttered then.

Shane studied her demeanor for a moment. She looked thoroughly exhausted, fed up, weary. He wondered if this was why she seemed to prefer being on her own—the less people you got attached to, the less people you had to lose. And from the sound of it, she'd lost enough people already.

"Too bad ya didn't take that Dodge and head outta here while you had the chance, huh?" he asked, wondering if that was where her mind was at—she seemed lost in thought again.

Her eyes turned up to his then, seeming mildly stunned for a moment. "Yeah, too bad," she said with a shrug, though there was no real conviction in her tone.

With that, she headed back toward Dusty and settled down at her side, running her hand up and down the other girl's back in soothing motions, and leaving Shane somewhat puzzled. Did that mean that she was glad she'd stayed behind, even after last night? She'd wanted to head out on her own with Thao just a couple days ago—what had changed her mind? He had no clue, and all he could seem to put together was that the tiny woman was a bit of an inherent contradiction.

* * *

_JPOV_

Sitting next to Dusty on the dirt and gravel, Jenna kept her eyes closed, trying to keep the horrible images from passing through her memory. Dusty kept her head buried in her arms, knees held clamped to her front while she sat curled up in a ball. Jenna guessed she was trying not to remember as well. If only that were possible.

Most of the time, Jenna found that it _was_ possible to keep the memories from overwhelming her mind. It took a lot of effort, and it helped that the constant need to be vigilant kept her good and distracted, but it was possible. It wasn't until Thao had come along that she'd really had any success at it, though. There were two times when her memories had free reign of her thoughts, two times of weakness which her memories took full advantage of; sleep, and the aftermath of times like _these_. When new wounds were inflicted, scar tissue ached with phantom pains, as though not wanting to be forgotten in the wake of new destruction.

Watching Tyler die had been horrible. Knowing that she'd been too late to help him was horrible. He looked so much like her own little brother, and it was like watching his death all over again.

She hadn't been able to help him either.

Josh's death hadn't been nearly so graphic, but the end result was the same—he'd been bitten, and he was now dead. Eighteen years old, caught somewhere between a kid and a young man, who had done all he could to protect their family. In the end, it had all been in vain.

Jenna had seen two very different sides of Josh that night in Seattle, back in their father's house. He'd fought like a true hero, selflessly and fearlessly, to keep the swarm from overtaking the house. Even after their dad had fallen, and their little sister, Katie…even after, he'd kept on fighting until he and Jenna had killed all of the rotting corpses. It was only then, when the bodies had all fallen, that he revealed the bite on his shoulder—his death sentence. And that was when Jenna had broken down. All of that struggle, all of that bloodshed had been for absolutely nothing, and she'd lost her entire family.

Josh, the one who'd received the Grim Reaper's seal of death, was still strong enough to want to protect Jenna even further—he'd decided to make sure Katie and their dad didn't wake up like the rest. And that was what brought Jenna back from her misery. That was what had cleared her head. Because there was no way in hell that she was going to let _that_ be Josh's final memory—smashing the skulls of his father and little sister to make sure they wouldn't be returning from the dead.

So she'd done it. She brought Josh up to his bedroom and made him lie down, and then she'd gone back downstairs into the blood-soaked, corpse-littered living room where her dad and Katie lie amongst the rest. She'd pulled the crowbar from her father's dead fingers, and she'd ended them.

To this day, she hadn't been able to pick up another crowbar.

Kneeling at her brother's bedside and waiting for the fever to run its course was the hardest thing she'd had to do up to that point. He'd said that he wanted to hold on as long as he could, and Jenna could only oblige—she was not eager for the process to be shortened in any way. She was dreading the inevitable end. And she was losing confidence in herself as the seconds passed; she didn't believe that she'd actually be able to do it. Her dad and Katie had been torture, and she didn't think she could handle even more.

And then she'd seen the second side of her brother, completely contrasting the first, when the fever had reached its peak.

Barely more than three hours before, he'd been a fearless defender—a hero. But lying there in his childhood bedroom, moments away from death, he'd been a terrified boy who was just afraid to die. And seeing him break down that way had demolished any trace of resolve Jenna had left. She knew she wouldn't be able to end things for him the same way she had with Katie and their dad. And if he hadn't spoken up in those last moments, she might not have.

"Jenny…I'm there…I can feel it," he'd said in barely more than a whisper, his tears having dried long before hers. "I'm there…I don't wanna be one of them, Jenny. I don't wanna be one of those things. They killed dad…they killed Katie…I don't wanna be _that_," he'd cried, tears running anew.

Six foot two, taller than their father, and still, she could see the trace of the little boy she'd grown up with in his terrified hazel eyes.

"You won't," Jenna had promised him, forcing her resolve back into place.

But she didn't know if he'd even heard her, for in the next moment, his eyes had turned from terrified to absolutely blank. Lifeless. His heartbeat had ceased, and his breathing had stopped. He was gone.

And with a monumental effort, Jenna had closed his eyes and raised her Beretta—which suddenly felt red-hot and seemed to be made of lead—and put a bullet through her brother's head, feeling like she'd just shot out her own heart in the process.

Shaking her head slightly, she tried to dispel that image and stop the ringing in her ears. She rubbed Dusty's shoulders gently, rhythmically, hoping fruitlessly to provide comfort.

Shane had asked her if she regretted staying with the group, and for some reason, that question had completely thrown her. Because in that instant, she realized that, oddly, she _didn't_ regret staying, and she wasn't sure if she completely understood why. It certainly would've spared her this interlude of agonizing recollection. She wouldn't have grown attached to any of these people—she wouldn't be mourning their deaths if she and Thao would have just moved on.

But would Gabe Morales have survived if she hadn't been there? Would anyone have stopped Dusty from getting herself mauled by the walker that killed Tyler? Not knowing the answer to that, Jenna couldn't honestly say that she would have preferred to have been absent for this disaster. Not if it meant two people had survived who otherwise wouldn't have, at the very least.

And, it seemed that Dusty needed someone to sit with her at the moment, and Jenna was glad to do it. She wished she'd had someone sitting with her when she'd lost everyone.

"A walker got him!"

Both Jenna's and Dusty's heads snapped up immediately at the sound of Jacki's startled voice in time to see her striding backward away from Jim.

"A walker bit Jim!" she cried.

Jenna's heart sank at the look of terrified dread on Jim's face as she and Dusty rose to their feet in alarm. Things had gone from bad to worse yesterday, and the night had ended in calamity. And yet, things only seemed to be spiraling downward even further.

Just when you think you've hit rock-bottom, the ground begins to crumble beneath your feet.


	13. Collaboration

**Disclaimer: I solemnly swear that I do not own The Walking Dead in any way shape or form. **

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and suggestive themes.

* * *

_"Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let the pain make you hate. Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness. Take pride that even though the rest of the world may disagree; you still believe it to be a beautiful place."_

_—Kurt Vonnegut_

* * *

Collaboration

The sun glared down upon the campsite, having reached the highest point in the sky, and Jenna felt as though she must've dropped at least a pound in sweat alone that day. But what did she really have to complain about? She and Thao were safe and completely unharmed, while Jim had received a death sentence last night. The bite on his stomach had sealed his fate.

But still, she sat on the empty utility bucket just about a yard away from him at the end of the RV while the others all stood around in a circle across the way to discuss the situation. When Rick and Shane had told him to sit down and wait for them to talk, Jenna had opted to join him. No one should have had to be completely alone during a time like this, and Jim had no one. She could recall having absolutely no one in the worst time of her life—it was hell—and Jim didn't deserve that.

"They're gonna kill me," he said in a quiet, defeated voice.

Jenna wasn't sure whether or not he was speaking to her, or just thinking out loud. "That's not up to them," she said anyway.

His shoulders shook as he let out a humorless, hollow laugh. "Who's it up to then? It ain't exactly like we've got an executioner handy these days."

"You didn't do anything wrong," said Jenna simply. "They won't _execute_ you."

"'Course they will," he argued in a lifeless voice. "Gonna kill me before I turn. Not gonna give me the chance to turn, so no one else gets bit. It's the safest thing for everybody."

"Except you," Jenna pointed out.

He breathed out another humorless laugh. "You know I'm dangerous now, don't ya?" he asked, looking over at her.

She turned her eyes over to him, looking away from the debating group. "I'm not afraid of you, if that's what you're asking," she said truthfully.

"Would you want your boy comin anywhere near me?" he challenged in that defeated tone.

"Jim, if he were right here, as close to you as I am now, I wouldn't flinch," she replied in all honesty. At his highly doubtful expression, she continued. "You're not a monster, Jim. You're not a mindless, mobile corpse."

The resigned hopelessness in his dark eyes told Jenna he was not swayed. "I will be…eventually…"

She hung her head slightly after a long moment, unable to argue. His fate was sealed, after all. It wasn't a matter of _if_ he was going to die—it was a matter of _when_ and _how_. Jim was no idiot. He knew that.

She raised her head in response to the raised voices of the group, watching them argue.

"The CDC is our best choice, an' Jim's only chance," Rick argued intently while Shane shook his head in disagreement.

Who had brought up the CDC? That was such a stretch, Jenna wasn't even sure it should've been considered as an option. The world had crashed and burned, there was no structure of organized, civilized life remaining. As Dusty had said just the day before, they were back to basics now—back to the very basics. The CDC was nothing but a dead end as far as Jenna was concerned, and it was right in the heart of Atlanta—right in the heart of the danger zone. It would be a risk entering the city with so many people, and it would be a risk without reward.

Her thoughts were cut off in response to Daryl's sudden outburst as he sped toward Jim, pickaxe raised to strike.

"Someone needs to have some balls an' take care of this damn problem!" he yelled as he moved.

Jenna's heart kicked into high-gear and she was on her feet in an instant, acting immediately and very, very foolishly. She moved so that she was standing directly in front of Jim, planting herself between he and Daryl—as though he wasn't wielding a gore-soaked pickaxe like a madman. Before she even had time to reconsider her reckless actions, Jim was pulling her to the side and out of the way at the same time Rick sped up behind Daryl and leveled his Colt Python at the man's head, effectively halting him.

"We don't kill the living," said Rick in a low growl, glaring daggers at Daryl.

Daryl turned his head and slowly lowered the pickaxe, glowering back at Rick contemptuously while Shane moved to stand in front of both Jim and Jenna, Mossberg in hand.

"That's funny," spat Daryl to Rick, "comin from a man that jus' put a gun to my head."

"We may disagree on some things," said Shane, gaining Daryl's attention, "but not on this," he said honestly, leveling a threatening gaze at the hothead. "You put it down," he said, nodding at the pickaxe, and his tone let Daryl know that it was not a request. "Go on."

Daryl stabbed the pickaxe into the dirt and gravel and stormed off, leaving Rick and Shane with a furious glower. Rick clicked the hammer of his Python back into place before holstering the gun, and Shane picked up the pickaxe, perhaps so no one else was tempted to finish the job in Daryl's place.

"Come with me," said Rick to Jim, grabbing him by the arm.

"Where're you takin me?" Jim asked apprehensively as he was led away.

"Somewhere safe," said Rick.

Jenna watched as Rick led Jim to the door of the RV, and ushered the kids back out of it. Once they'd cleared out, he brought Jim inside, and Jacki followed, a concerned look upon her face.

"Girl, you _must_ be outta your damn mind," said Shane in apparent exasperation at her left.

"Yeah, maybe," she muttered simply, waving Thao over to her.

"You got a death wish I don't know 'bout?" he asked, running a hand through his dirty, sweat-soaked hair. "You always jump in head first like that? You did the same thing with Ed, an' accordin to Rick, you wouldn't have done anythin different down in Atlanta with Guillermo an' his men."

She quirked a brow at him. "Keeping tabs on me, officer?" she asked as Thao came to stand at her side, and she wondered if her voice was actually carrying that hint of a threat in it, or if that was just her imagination.

He looked close to rolling his eyes. "Look, all I'm sayin is, you seem real keen on divin right in an' puttin yourself in the hot seat without even thinkin twice about it," he pointed out, and she found that she couldn't argue with him there—but why was that any of his concern? "I get it, you're used to takin care of yourself an' Thao, no help from anyone—but you ain't alone anymore. You don't have to jump right in an' solve everythin on your own without a word to anybody else. We're a group. We function as a group, an' if you're gonna stay with us, you gotta keep that in mind. All the decision making—it ain't left to jus' you anymore. The rest of us are here too, an' we can help you. That's what we do, we keep each other safe, it's…it's a _collaborative_ effort," he explained, a wry smirk on his face. "Jus' keep that in mind, okay?"

She considered that a moment, mulling over his words. She hadn't thought of it that way until now, but he was right, she supposed—she was part of a group now, whether she liked it or not. That being the case, she didn't have to continue to behave in a way that was befitting to a life of singular decision making. There were others here to bounce ideas off of, and maybe she could _collaborate_, rather than just go her own way whilst living among them.

"Alright," she said slowly while they began to pace away from the RV and toward the fire pit, Jenna guiding Thao with an arm around his shoulders, Shane with his Mossberg resting over his own shoulder. "So, next time Daryl comes at somebody with a pickaxe, I take it up the chain of command?" she asked wryly.

He gave her sidelong glance in response to her sarcasm. "Smartass," he muttered.

She couldn't help but to smirk as they went separate ways, he going to speak to Rick, who stood by the Challenger, and she taking a seat on the ground beside Sophia. The little girl sat between Jenna and Dusty, her head hanging down as she stared solemnly at the ground. Ed had been one of the many to die the night before, and despite the fact that the man was no good to anyone, especially to his wife and daughter, it was clear that Sophia was hurt by his death. He was her father, after all—the only father the little girl ever knew—despite everything else he was.

Dusty stroked the little girl's hair gently, murmuring low, soothing words. Thao sat nestled in Jenna's lap while she scanned her eyes around the camp, searching. Where was Carol?

And then she stepped out from where she'd been behind the RV, tears running down her face while she sobbed. It wasn't until then that Jenna remembered where Ed's decimated remains lay—just out of view behind the RV along with the others.

Thankfully, Dale approached her and gently guided her over to the fire pit while she continued to sob, and helped her into a lawn chair next to Dusty. Sophia crawled into her mother's lap and the two of them wrapped their arms around each other, crying together, both for their loss and probably, Jenna suspected, for the guilt they felt for the relief Ed's death brought to them. It must've been a troubling dichotomy, to say the least.

Dusty gasped beside Jenna, and she looked up at her in question, seeing her staring wide-eyed straight ahead. Jenna followed her gaze to see Andrea kneeling at Amy's side—and Amy was now sitting up, with her hands gripping Andrea's hair.

Jenna's heart dropped like a stone as she stared at the pair of sisters, instinctively turning Thao's face into her shoulder—whatever was about to happen was going to be far from pleasant. As callous as it was, she now couldn't deny that Daryl was right—they should've just ended it before, even if Andrea wasn't ready. Because now she was within Amy's grasp, and Amy was not Amy anymore. She was just a shell of her former being—a very dangerous one—and if Andrea wasn't moved away from her, and soon, she would follow suit.

But, just as Shane, Rick, and some of the others began to rush forward, Andrea brought a silver Smith & Wesson pistol to her sister's head and pulled the trigger. Amy's upper body fell back onto the ground, and Andrea lowered the gun, stroking her hair back again, the blast from the shot still ringing in Jenna's ears.

* * *

It was a few hours before the bodies they hadn't burned were ready for transport up into the grassy hills. They had been covered and loaded into the back of Daryl's old F-250, and he backed the truck all the way up the road, carefully navigating his way up to where Rick and Shane had been digging graves for the past couple of hours. The rest of the group followed the truck at a solemn trudge, and Jenna scanned her eyes around the area continually, not wanting to be caught off-guard—again.

The truck came to a stop ahead of them, and she could hear the door creak open before it was slammed shut again as Daryl exited the vehicle.

"I still think it's a mistake, not burnin these bodies," his voice carried down to them as they approached. "That's what we said we'd do, right? Burn em all?" he asked Shane, who seemed to be trying to ignore the man while he continued shoveling away at the grave he was working on.

The group came to a stop around the truck, and Jenna stood between Dusty and Jacki with Thao leaning back against her legs in front of her, quiet as ever. Even he could sense the tense debate that was unfolding. Shane stabbed his shovel into the ground at his feet and leaned against the handle, glaring up at Daryl. He and Rick were completely filthy, their shirts and hair soaked through with sweat and dirt covering their skin and clothing in equal measure. They looked exhausted, and Jenna now regretted that she hadn't even thought about offering them a hand with the grave digging.

"Inn't that the idea?" Daryl continued, not about to drop the subject.

"At first," said Rick with as much patience as he could manage, still shoveling away.

"What, so the Chinaman gets all emotional an' says it's not the thing to do, an' we jus' follow him along?" Daryl demanded in obvious disagreement.

_He's Korean, asshole,_ Jenna thought in mild annoyance, but decided to hold her tongue. This was already tense enough as it was, without her adding fuel to the fire. And now was hardly the time or place for a heated argument—they'd come to lay their dead to rest. People were grieving.

Neither Shane nor Rick gave Daryl a response, but he continued on anyway.

"These people need to know who the hell's in charge here," he said critically, glaring between Shane and Rick, "what the damn rules are."

"There are no rules," said Rick shortly, also stabbing his shovel into the earth at his feet.

_Isn't _that_ the truth? _Jenna thought wryly. Rules had been tossed out the window a long time ago, as far as she was concerned. No one was exactly prepared to live in this world, so they had to make up their own rules as they went along. That very dilemma was what made survival among others so hard to do—it was difficult to agree on which made-up rules to follow.

"Well, that's a problem," said Lori, and for a wild moment, Jenna thought she was responding to her silent musings rather than to her husband. "We haven't had one minute to hang on to anythin of our old selves. We need time to _mourn_, an' we need to bury our dead," she said intently, glaring at Daryl. "It's what people do."

In a way, Jenna had to agree with Lori. Up until now, she personally hadn't exactly had the time to hold onto the way she used to live—the person she'd once been. It was all just survival, and being on the move through the world in the state that it was didn't leave much room for holding onto anything. But, now she had the chance to do just that. To reclaim some semblance of the person she'd been before and hold onto it. If they had the chance, they needed to take it before they completely lost sight of who they were. That was a dark and dangerous tunnel to fall through. Jenna knew that firsthand.

With the graves completed, they commenced with lowering the bodies into the earth. Some of them chose to lay a specific person or two to rest—a friend or a family member. Rick helped Carol lower Ed into the ground, and Lori and Jacki had done the same with Tamara's remains. Gabe and Glenn had buried Tito, and Jenna had helped Dusty with Tyler and Dillon's bodies, placing them in graves beside each other. The rest—whoever didn't have a living family member or friend among the group—were taken care of by the men.

Amy was the last to be lowered into a grave, and it was a painful process, since Andrea refused help from anyone, though Dale hovered at her side, obviously wanting nothing more than to help the poor woman.

"I can do it, I can do it," she maintained as she struggled to lower Amy into the last grave as gently as possible, stepping into the hole herself in the process.

Jenna lowered her head, unable to watch any longer, and stroked Thao's hair comfortingly while she stood with the others at the other end of the grassy clearing, waiting quietly and respectfully for the girl to be laid to rest with the others.

Somewhere at her left, Jenna could hear Lori crying as quietly as she could, while to her right, Dusty was wiping at her eyes. Knowing no words could provide any comfort to anyone in a time such as this, Jenna wordlessly reached out and took the other girl's hand, giving it a light squeeze. Dusty squeezed back, and they stood silently among the rest while Amy was finally settled down into her grave.

It was strange at a bit unsettling to Jenna that in just a handful of days with these people, she was starting to connect with them—some of them, anyway. She cared about what happened to them. Their grief was her grief, and their pain was her pain. Admittedly, it was startling. She was letting people in again, which was something she'd forced herself to give up—for her sake. For a while, the only person she'd allowed herself to let in was Thao, and she'd given all of herself to that little boy—and done it gladly. He'd very quickly become her world, and she'd shut everything else out to remain focused on his wellbeing. And yet, here she was, washed over with sympathy and empathy for these people who had been strangers to her just days ago.

But, she was no less focused on Thao, she realized. Perhaps, as long as she could keep the two in balance, letting others in wasn't as dangerous as she thought…as long as they were the right people.

Once Amy had been buried, they began to make their way across the clearing back toward the dirt road to head back to camp. Everyone was spent, both physically and mentally, and it looked like the day's work was finally over and done with. There was still the weighty matter of Jim to worry about, but Jenna expected that ordeal would be left in the hands of Rick and Shane.

Just as Jenna and Dusty had reached the edge of the clearing with Thao, bringing up the rear, a rustling in the trees and bushes at their right caught her attention. Pulling Thao behind her and releasing the machete from her belt, Jenna took a small step forward while the rustling drew nearer.

A walker with a tattered black jacket and dirt-matted, scraggly black hair stumbled into the clearing barely fifteen feet away from Jenna and Dusty. It raised its head, spotting them, and bared its teeth in a guttural snarl.

The gold tooth in front sparked recognition in Jenna, and the mystery of what had become of Roy McFadden was solved.

"Oh, God…" Dusty choked, sounding both horrified and nauseated.

Jenna had to agree with her there. Roy's nose—or what was left of it, anyway—looked like it had been chewed off, and his gray, corpse-like face was covered in sticky, fetid blood. There was a nasty looking hole in the side of his neck, where it looked like a chunk of his flesh had been torn out. Blood had obviously been gushing from the wound, for all along the left side of his body, Roy's clothes were soaked with dark red gore.

Just as he began to take a stumbling step in their direction, and Jenna raised her machete, a piercing sound sliced through the air from her left, and an arrow sank into Roy's skull, going from one side of his head and protruding out from the other. The body collapsed in a heap onto the ground, and Jenna lowered her machete, securing it to her belt again.

She looked over at Daryl as he slung the crossbow over his shoulder again, and gave him a nod of thanks. He returned the gesture as he and the others made their way over to the scene.

"Guess you got your answer, huh?" said Shane, coming to a stop at her side.

"Guess so," she replied, looking down at the body.

"Maybe we should just burn him," said T-Dog, waving his hand at Roy's prone figure. "Nobody's gonna miss him, ya know?"

"Won't hear me complaining," agreed Gabe.

There seemed to be a general consensus among the group, but Jenna just moved silently back over to the truck and grabbed one of the shovels, resting it over her shoulder.

"I'll do it," she said quietly, and gave the others a nod. "Don't worry about it," she assured them when they all gave her bemused expressions, and looked back down at the man's dead body. "I got it."

Shane held his dirt-covered hand out to her. "I got it," he said quietly, and jerked his head toward the rest of the group, "go on back to camp."

Jenna shook her head. "You're exhausted," she argued. "And so are you," she said to Rick, who'd come to stand at Shane's side, before he could move in on her too. "Don't worry about it, alright? I've got it." _And it's nothing I haven't done before, _she added internally.

"I'll help ya, Mouse," offered Daryl as he yanked the arrow from Roy's head.

"Thanks," said Jenna in mild surprise, and then turned her gaze back up to Shane. "There you go—collaboration," she said with a slight smirk.

Rick frowned slightly in puzzlement while Shane just gave her a long look and huffed out a breath of dry laughter, shaking his head slightly. He nodded at her, conceding, and turned back to lead the others back to camp along with Rick.

"We got the big guy," said Dusty beside Jacki, smiling down at Thao before looking up at Jenna for confirmation.

Jenna nodded, trusting them and the group to be enough to defend him if need be. But she wasn't about to leave her boy unprotected, so she pulled the machete from her belt and handed it to Dusty, blade pointed down at the ground.

"That's a two-foot blade, careful where you swing it," she advised as she passed the weapon along. She knelt down to be at level with Thao then, and he looked back at her attentively. "I'm gonna stay here for a little bit with Daryl," she said, nodding her head in Daryl's direction. "We're gonna bury that man, and then I'll be right down with you, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed. "Can I play cars with Louis?"

"As long as his mom says it's okay," she assured him, and he nodded. "You be good for Dusty and Jacki, alright, little man?"

He nodded again and she kissed his forehead before ruffling his hair and sending him off. She watched him go, Dusty leading him by the hand and Jacki with her arm around his shoulders as they caught up to the group. When they were out of sight, Jenna looked back around at Roy's body.

"Right here?" she suggested, stepping over to an open spot among the other graves.

"Wherever," muttered Daryl, picking up the other shovel.

They worked in silence for a while, stabbing at the ground and tossing chunks of dirt and sod to the side. The silence between them wasn't tense or awkward, but rather…companionable, as odd as that sounded. But, Jenna couldn't really be surprised by this—she and Daryl had some similarities. They both preferred solitude, and didn't take too kindly to being ordered around. He was a hothead, sure, but she couldn't deny that she acted rashly in her own ways too.

"Why bother?" he asked when they were a little more than halfway through. "What's he to you? You didn't even know 'im. Jus' a waste of time and energy."

"We buried the rest of our dead," she said simply, tossing a chunk of dirt out to the side of the hole. "He falls under that category. And no one's twisting your arm here, man—you didn't have to help me," she pointed out.

"Naw, I didn't," Daryl replied honestly. "An' neither did you. Didn't stop you from goin down to the city to bring Merle back."

Well, he had her there. She covered up a smirk as she continued to shovel away the dirt at their feet. People could say what they wanted about Daryl, but he wasn't a bad guy. In his own way, he was thanking her. Returning the favor.

"Point is," Daryl continued, "you really think this prick deserves to be buried? He was nothin but a creep. Men around here—we never let 'im near any of you women."

"So I gathered," she replied, working to loosen a large rock out from the earth. "He never did anything to me, though, so there's no reason I shouldn't bury him. He was a person that we knew. Wouldn't you rather be buried than left to rot out in the elements?"

Daryl spat off to the side. "Don't make a difference—when you're dead, you're dead."

There was a good deal of logic in Daryl's simplified assessment, she had to admit. Maybe Roy McFadden hadn't been much good to anyone, and maybe he didn't deserve to be buried. But something of Lori's lecture had resonated in Jenna. If she was to even attempt to recover a trace of the person she'd once been, she had to start living in such a manner. And the person she'd once been wouldn't have left a man she'd known—however briefly and indirectly—to rot in the elements after his untimely death.

"Maybe," she agreed as they finished up the grave. "But just so you know, a lot of people would consider Merle unworthy of a grave. I'd still bury him."

He looked at her for a moment, and she was unable to read the expression on his face or the mood in his eyes. Then he just looked back down at the ground before him, spat once more, and hefted himself out of the grave. Taking her by slight surprise, he held a dirt-covered hand out to her, and she accepted the offered assistance, letting him help her up after him.

She had the feeling that they'd reached some neutral ground. Hmm. Perhaps there was more to be said for collaboration than she'd first thought.

* * *

**Note: **

Ahh, bonding over grave digging—is there any better way?

Just a heads-up; it might take a little time to post the next chapter if I don't work on it tonight. Life gets in the way. But it shouldn't take me horribly long—just a few days—and I have a good amount of the chapters after the next completed already, so there is that.

P.S. Thank you for the continued support, guys, it means a lot!


	14. Shot in the Dark

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to The Walking Dead. I'm just having fun with their characters. **

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and suggestive themes.

**Note: **I'd just like to make one thing clear—I personally have no qualms with the military. Jenna's character does, and her reasons will be revealed as the story progresses. So I hope no one takes offense to her anti-military attitude.

* * *

_"And the light shineth in darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it."_

_—John 1:5_

* * *

Shot in the Dark

Jenna sat between Carol and Dusty around the fire pit among most of the others. The day was winding down, and it seemed that the worst of the heat had passed, for which she was thankful—and was certain that everyone else shared her sentiments. Just about everyone was covered in sweat and dirt to some degree, some—like Rick, Shane, Daryl, and Gabe—more than others.

The kids were sitting in their own little group among the rest around the fire pit, chewing on the last granola bars from Jenna's backpack. It wasn't until she and Daryl had taken the truck back to camp that she realized they were out of food. For most of them, that fateful fish fry had been their last meal. (For those that had been buried, that statement couldn't have been more true.) But those that had joined Daryl in the city yesterday hadn't eaten since that morning, and Jenna didn't realize how hungry she was until the events of the day had run their course, and there was nothing left to occupy her mind.

She took a swig from her water bottle. No matter. She'd gone days without food before, and she could do it again. Water was the important thing, really. Food could wait, so long as she had water.

The sound of approaching footsteps made her raise her eyes from the ground, and she and the others around her watched as Shane, Rick, and Dale joined them around the fire pit, returning from their sweep of the woods. Daryl came to join them when Shane took a knee among them, as it was obvious that he was going to speak to them as a whole.

"Look, I been thinkin about Rick's plan," he started, and Jenna realized he was talking about the CDC. "There are no…there're no guarantees, I'll be the first one to admit that," he said while they listened intently. "I've known this man a long time," he said, his eyes cutting over to Rick across the fire pit. "I trust his instincts. I'd say the most important thing here, is we need to stay together," he told them intently, and his eyes landed on Jenna for a moment, as though he could hear the doubt in her thoughts. "So, for those of you that agree, we leave first thing in the mornin."

With that, everyone was left to their thoughts and musings while they all wandered off to go about their business. For most of them, that involved getting themselves cleaned up from the day's trials, and thus arose the popular desire to head into the RV for a shower. Jenna opted to just head down to take a dip in the quarry—shower or not, they were using the water from the quarry anyway—and Dusty joined her. Miranda offered to look after Thao, who was still playing cars with Louis, and Jenna was supremely grateful for the woman's efforts. It was a huge relief to know that while Thao was out of Jenna's sight, he was under the watchful gaze of a mother.

She grabbed a change of clothes from her tent and she and Dusty strolled down the road to the quarry together, Jenna holding her machete over her shoulder lazily, ever watchful of their surroundings.

Rather than stripping down to her underwear like Dusty, Jenna opted to just leave her clothes on, figuring she could wash them and herself at the same time. She removed her necklace, emptied her pockets, and left her things with her weapons beside her dry clothes—her switchblade, her wallet which now merely held photos, and the antique style hipflask she'd picked up from the abandoned liquor store she and Thao had taken refuge in for one night while they were passing through Tennessee. Instead of alcohol, however, she used it for water.

"Here," said Dusty, handing her a small plastic bottle. "Ain't much, but it's the best we've got."

Jenna straightened up from floating on her back in the water and studied the bottle in her hand, realizing it was a pocket-sized shampoo bottle.

"Thanks," she said, sincerely grateful for the small gift. "Can't even remember the last time I used shampoo."

"Glenn snagged a bunch of em from some hotel in the city a while ago," said Dusty, working some of the shampoo into her own hair. "You wouldn't believe how fast they went, too—lucky I grabbed some of em before they were all gone."

Once they'd washed off—Jenna could hardly recall her hair feeling so clean—and changed into dry clothes, Jenna spread her wet clothes out along the large rocks that lined the shore to dry while they sat back on the ground and stared out at the water, both of them lost in their own thoughts. The sun was starting to set, and in the morning, the group would be heading into the city in the hopes that the CDC was still up and running.

Jenna had decided to stay with the group before, for Thao, but was that really in his best interest now? Shane obviously thought they should all stick together, but was it really worth it? Jenna couldn't decide. Her instincts were telling her to pack her things, take Thao, and head out before the sun came up the next morning, but her mind was telling her to stop and think about it for a moment first. There was a lot of truth in what Shane had said earlier; she was accustomed to making rapid decisions without any external input. But, she was part of a group now. There was plenty of external input to be had, and who was to say that some of it wasn't worth listening to? Would it be better for Thao to stay with the group, even with the trip to the CDC on the horizon? Would it be better to head off on their own, just the two of them again?

Somehow, she didn't think so.

"You think the CDC's a good idea?" Dusty asked eventually, apparently thinking along the same lines as Jenna.

Jenna shrugged slightly, honestly unsure. "I dunno. I think it's a wild stab in the dark, really, but…it's not like I have any better ideas to offer for the group."

"I mean, I don't think there's any government left—do you?" she inquired.

Jenna spat out a breath of laughter. "Hell no. I think the government was one of the first things to fall, to tell you the truth."

"Rick don't think so," Dusty said doubtfully.

"Yeah, I noticed," said Jenna as they rose to their feet, wiping the dirt from their pants. "But, Rick hasn't exactly been awake throughout all of this. He didn't see the way things happened—the way things just…crashed."

"Yeah, so why's he suddenly in charge?" Dusty muttered, picking up her clothes.

Jenna hummed a light laugh, lacing up her shoes and tucking the hems of her cargo pants inside so they'd be out of the way. "According to Shane, this is a _collaborative_ effort," she said wryly. "And, no one's making us go with them, in any case."

"True," Dusty conceded.

They headed back up the road toward camp under the waning sunlight, both of them with still partially damp hair. Jenna's stomach rumbled slightly, but she ignored it. Food would come along eventually.

They'd almost reached camp when a muffled snarling sound could be heard at their left. They halted and peered into the trees that lined the road a good twenty or so feet away, looking for any sign of the walker that was surely the source of the noise. Sure enough, they didn't have to wait long before a skinny walker in shredded denim jeans stumbled through the foliage, falling onto its hands and knees onto the dirt and gravel.

Dusty strode backward immediately, pulling Jenna by the arm with her. Jenna looked back at the girl, seeing the obvious fear in her bright eyes, and an idea came to mind.

"You've never killed one before, have you?" she asked Dusty, looking back at the walker as it pushed itself up to its feet, albeit unsteadily.

Dusty shook her head, wide-eyed. "Naw, I mean…I've got a gun, but I've never actually had to use it, ya know?" she said in a shaky voice. She glanced at Jenna briefly before turning her eyes back to the walker, which was shuffling toward them. "You gonna kill it, or should we get the hell outta here?"

"I could," Jenna said carefully, and then held the machete out for Dusty to take. "But I think you should give it a try."

"_What?_" Dusty asked, bewildered. "You lost your damn mind?"

"Eventually, you're gonna have to kill one," Jenna reminded her. "You might as well have an idea of what it's like when that time comes—and it _will_."

"_Now?_" said Dusty in disbelief, pulling Jenna backward with her still.

"Now's as good a time as any," Jenna pointed out. "There's just one, you're out in the open, and I'm here to cover you," she promised, pulling the Beretta from her belt and loading a round in the chamber. "Dusty," she said intently, gaining the other girl's attention. "You need to know how to do this for yourself, if you wanna survive."

Uncertainly, Dusty reached out and took the machete from Jenna's proffered hand, and looked back at the walker, which was now barely more than ten feet away.

"I'm right here, I won't let it get you, but you need to do it," Jenna urged, nodding at the walker. Dusty nodded, mustering up her willpower, and held the machete out in front of her defensively as the walker drew slowly nearer, snarling and baring its rotted teeth. "Aim for the skull, and follow through," Jenna advised, taking a step to the side to be well out of the way of the swinging blade and raising her gun at the walker.

Dusty raised the blade over her shoulder, preparing to strike, and Jenna watched intently as she gathered up her courage, ready to make the shot if the need presented itself. The walker was now no more than eight feet away, and there was a moment of hesitation before Dusty advanced quickly, swinging the machete down at full force. Jenna watched the blade crack into the skull of the very skinny walker.

Instinctively, Dusty moved back as the body collapsed forward, and her hand remained on the handle of the machete, the blade still embedded in the thing's skull. Jenna turned the safety back on and stowed away her Beretta before stepping forward, taking the handle from Dusty's white-knuckled grasp. The girl was breathing heavily, as though she'd just jogged a mile, and looking down at the corpse with wide eyes.

Jenna braced her foot on the skull and pulled the machete free, giving it a little flick before securing it to her belt once more. She looked at Dusty, understanding what was going through her mind; the relief for your own safety warring with the unsettling feeling that you'd just killed something that had once been a living, breathing person.

"It's not a person anymore," Jenna said softly, placing a hand on Dusty's shoulder.

Dusty shook her head, staring down at the body at their feet. "I know…" she said slowly. "I know, but…I thought it would feel…different."

"Different?" Jenna inquired.

Dusty nodded. "Yeah, different…better, maybe. I dunno."

Jenna nodded then, understanding. "It's not exactly satisfying, putting them down," she said. "At least, not most of the time. Most of the time it's just…"

"Cold," supplied Dusty when Jenna couldn't voice an accurate description.

"Yeah…cold," Jenna agreed solemnly. "But there's no getting around it—it's something you have to do to survive now. Everyone."

They gathered up their things again and headed into the campground, making their way toward the clothesline. Jenna scanned the area and spotted Thao playing with sidewalk chalk with the other kids near the Morales' tent, and was glad that he was enjoying himself, even today. No matter what the adults had to endure, it was good to know that the kids were able to experience the luxury of joy and carefree play every now and then.

"How d'you do it?" Dusty asked while Jenna hung her clothes up on the line, securing them in place with clothespins.

"Do what?" she asked, hanging up her gray t-shirt beside her army green cargo pants.

"Get past the…cold part," Dusty answered eventually. "I mean, I know they kill—I've seen em kill. People I love…my family… But they were people too before all this, ya know? So how d'you get past that?"

Jenna considered that a moment. It was never something she'd ever had to explain to anyone before.

"I guess you just…remind yourself that they're not people anymore," she answered after a moment of thought. "Whoever they were, they died long before their body found its way to you. And you have to do it to keep yourself alive, there's no other way. And, you remind yourself that by killing them, you're not just protecting yourself, but the next person they might've come across."

Dusty nodded slowly, silently, mulling that over, before she raised her eyes to Jenna's. "You said your brother was bit…"

Jenna nodded solemnly. "Brother, father, little sister," she said. "We were hiding out at our dad's house. Had the windows boarded up, the front door blocked from the inside. We only used the backdoor to get in and out when we needed to—when we ran out of water." She shook her head slightly, glossing over the gory details of the events that led up to her family's demise. "The house was swarmed."

"My mama was bit," Dusty said after a heavy pause. "We were gettin outta Savannah, headin to Atlanta for the refugee center they were broadcastin about. She got bit on the way there. Her an my sisters—all three of em. It was jus' me, an' I almost made it to Atlanta. The traffic was backed up way outta the city though, you couldn't get near it. That's where I met Jacki and T-Dog. My car broke down on the side of the road before I got there, an' they gave me a ride in the church van T's got. We met Shane an' Lori on the road when everyone was stopped there. Carol an' Ed were parked next to em. When they started droppin napalm in the city, we decided to get away from the crowds, an' went with Shane up to the quarry."

"Everyone's lost someone," said Jenna quietly.

Dusty nodded im agreement. "Sorry 'bout your brother…an' your daddy an' little sister," she said somberly, giving Jenna's hand a squeeze.

Jenna squeezed back lightly. "Sorry about your mom, and your sisters."

It was getting dark, and Jenna called Thao over to her while she and Dusty made their way to their tent, settling in for the night. She kicked off her shoes and laid her machete on the floor off to the side, so Thao wouldn't step on it by accident, before getting him nestled inside the red sleeping bag beside her.

"Are we leaving here?" he asked curiously, gazing up at her from where he lay at her side.

"Yeah, tomorrow morning, I think," she answered.

"But I like it here," he said, frowning.

"I know, sweetheart," she said, stroking his hair back gently. "But we're gonna see if we can find someplace safer to stay, so we don't lose any more people."

"Will the new place have books?" he asked.

Jenna smirked, holding back a laugh. During their travels together, Jenna had often told him that she hoped the next place they stopped for the night had books. And so, it had become a bit of a requirement in his opinion. He would ask her whether or not she thought a new place they came across had any books. It was when he started doing that that Jenna realized she would have to monitor what she said around him—he was a good mimicker.

"Maybe," she said, smiling. "We'll just have to wait and see when we get there. Go to sleep now, sweetheart—we've got a big day ahead of us tomorrow."

"Okay," he said with a sigh. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, sweetie," she said, kissing his forehead.

"Goodnight, Dusty," he said, turning his head to peer over at her.

Dusty giggled slightly. "'Night, big guy. We'll see you bright an' early in the mornin."

Thao nodded and turned over on his side, snuggling deeper inside the sleeping bag and falling asleep barely a couple minutes later. It had certainly been a very long day, and he'd hardly slept at all the night before.

Jenna pulled the Beretta from her belt and emptied the chamber, replacing the round into the magazine before sliding it back into place. With that done, she tucked it into the front of her belt before crawling into the blue sleeping bag at Thao's side.

"You're real good with your gun, huh?" Dusty assumed.

"I've been trained," Jenna qualified with a shrug. "Been certified since I was seventeen. What about you?" she asked then, recalling what she'd said before taking down the walker.

Dusty laughed lightly. "Jus' got my mama's old gun," she said, pulling her bag over to her and reaching inside of it. "Only ever shot it once—not at anythin movin, though, jus' a target."

She pulled out a small revolver, holding it out carefully for Jenna to take. Jenna accepted the gun and checked the safety and the cylinder before admiring the blued steel, three inch barreled revolver with a rosewood grip. It was a nice little gun, and it was in good condition.

"This is nice," she commented, mock-aiming at the door of the tent in front of her for a moment. "I've never fired a Taurus before."

"Yeah, maybe you can teach me how," Dusty said with a laugh.

"It'd probably be a good idea," Jenna agreed, handing the gun back to her.

Dusty stowed the revolver away into her bag once more, and turned off the lantern before settling down to sleep in her own sleeping bag. Jenna closed her eyes, and knew that she wasn't going to be getting up in a hurry. She was going on forty-eight hours of no sleep and no food, and she was starting to feel the effects.

It wasn't long before she fell into deep, dreamless sleep—merciful, dreamless sleep.

* * *

Morning came much sooner than Jenna would've liked, but voicing her complaints wouldn't do anyone any good, so she just gathered hers and Thao's things and packed them away, making sure to grab her clothes from the line as well. She helped Dusty disassemble the tent and pack it away before stashing their combined bags into the back of T-Dog's church van. Jenna had agreed to ride with them, since they had plenty of room in the spacious vehicle.

Jenna handed Thao a water bottle as she joined the gathering down near the cars. It would be his only breakfast, unfortunately.

"Alright, everybody—listen up," Shane told them once they'd all gathered. "Those of you with CBs, we're gonna be on channel 40, but let's keep the chatter down, okay? If you got a problem, don't have a CB, can't get a signal, anythin at all, you jus' gotta hit your horn one time. That'll stop the caravan. Any questions?"

"We're, uh…we're not going," said Gabe after a moment of hesitation.

"We have family in Birmingham," Miranda explained in response to the heavy silence and the looks of shock. "We wanna be with our people."

"You're on your own, you won't have anyone to watch your back," Shane reminded Gabe intently, clearly not agreeing with the Morales family's decision to split away from the group.

"We'll take the chance," said Gabe, more conviction in his voice now. "I gotta do what's best for my family."

"You sure?" Rick asked, obvious doubt in his expression.

"We talked about it," Gabe confirmed, looking over at his wife and children at his side. "We're sure."

Rick nodded, accepting that decision against his better judgment. "Alright," he conceded. "Shane," he said then, looking to his friend.

He and Shane knelt down, the bag of guns between them, and rifled through its contents, selecting a decent sized Smith & Wesson revolver and a box of .38 rounds to go with it. A parting gift of sorts, Jenna understood. They approached Gabe, Rick handing over the gun and Shane passing along the accompanying ammo.

"Box is half full," Shane informed.

Gabe nodded appreciatively, tucking the revolver into his belt and shaking Shane's hand, and then Rick's.

"Thank you all," said Miranda a little tearfully, looking around at the group. "For everything."

Heartfelt goodbyes were shared by the Morales family with most of the group. Eliza and Sophia wrapped their arms around each other tightly, tears in their eyes. Thao and Louis waved glumly at each other, both of them shuffling their feet in the dirt. As soon as Jacki released Miranda, Jenna was pulled into an embrace by the young mother.

"Thank you," Jenna told her sincerely. "For looking after Thao for me so much."

"Thank you for looking out for my husband," Miranda replied, and Jenna nodded, somewhat surprised. She hadn't realized that anyone had seen her keep the walkers away from Gabe's turned back.

Jenna moved over to the Morales children, kissing them each on the head once. "Take care of your mom and dad, alright?" she told them.

At her left, Miranda was holding Thao's face in her hands gently. "Goodbye, pequeño," she said, kissing his forehead. "You be good."

Thao nodded, and moved back to Jenna's side while she stepped back, giving the others room so say their goodbyes as well. Dusty moved to stand beside her after sharing a hug with Miranda and wiped at her eyes lightly. Jenna couldn't say that she blamed the Morales family for deciding to go their own way. It was something she had considered, of course, and the CDC was a bit of a stretch, to say the least, no less than the Morales's finding their family in Birmingham.

All too soon, they were loading into the very Honda Accord that had brought Jenna to this group days ago, Louis and Eliza waving final goodbyes from the backseat.

"What makes you think our odds are any better?" Shane asked Rick in an undertone while Jenna passed them on her way to the church van.

So she and Dusty weren't the only ones with doubts, then, she understood as she passed the dismembered Challenger with the note taped to the driver's side window reading MORGAN, GOING TO CDC, THIS AREA NOT SAFE—RICK.

Once everyone was settled into one of the many vehicles, the caravan made the slow, winding journey out of the quarry. When they reached the main road, the Honda Accord honked twice—a final farewell—and the Morales family turned right while the rest of the caravan turned left. Jenna wished them well, and hoped to God that those children remained safe along whatever journey they were in for.

The caravan moved down the road under the early morning sky, the RV at the front, Shane's Jeep Wrangler bringing up the rear. In the middle of the van with Thao and Dusty, Jenna wondered vaguely why they were using so many vehicles. If the CDC didn't pan out, they were wasting fuel.

Jenna wasn't paying much attention to the time that passed, lost in her own mind, and was snapped back to the present when the van rolled to a stop.

"What's up?" Jenna asked T-Dog as he pulled the keys from the ignition.

"Dunno," he replied. "But the others are stopped."

They exited the vehicle then, and approached the small gathering that was forming up at the RV ahead of them. Dale already had the grate of the engine open, and smoke was spewing out of it as they approached.

"I told ya we'd never get far on that hose," said Dale to Rick. "That's why I needed the one from the cube van."

"Can't ya rig it?" Rick asked hopefully.

"That's all it's been so far," said Dale. "It's more duct tape than hose—and I'm outta duct tape."

"I see somethin up ahead," said Shane, peering through his binoculars. "Gas station if we're lucky."

Jacki rushed out from the RV then, startling everyone slightly. "Y'all," she said, a little breathless. "Jim—it's bad. I don't think he can take any more," she told them fretfully, before heading back into the RV to tend to the waning man inside.

Jenna sighed, hanging her head. Jim was going to die, CDC notwithstanding. She recalled her brother burning out in a matter of hours…Jim had been running that fever for far longer…it was only a matter of time.

"Rick, you wanna hold down the fort?" Shane suggested. "I'll scout up ahead, see what I can bring back."

"Yeah, I'll come along too—I'll back you up," T-Dog offered.

Shane nodded in appreciation, and then turned to the rest of them. "Y'all keep your eyes open now—we'll be right back," he assured them.

With that, he and T-Dog hopped into his Jeep and headed off down the road while Rick entered the RV, and Jenna watched them go for a while, feeling rather useless. There was a dying man in the immobile RV, and they were stuck on the side of the road, hoping Shane and T-Dog returned with the tools necessary to get them moving again. This was a situation in which Jenna couldn't do anything useful, and that was not sitting well with her at all.

She looked around, searching for _something_ to do—and then realized that they were all stranded on the road with people out of their vehicles and no one on watch.

"Come on, buddy," she said to Thao, taking his hand and walking toward the back of the RV. "Help me keep watch for a while, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed, eager to help.

She helped him climb the ladder to the roof of the RV and stood at the middle, gazing around at the area from the new vantage point. She made sure to keep him at her side at all time, ensuring that he wouldn't go tumbling over the edge.

The grassy fields on the left side of the road weren't a problem—there was no place for anything to hide there, and if there was a walker, they'd see it coming long before it reached them. It was the dense foliage at the right side of the road that gave them any reason for worry. It was impossible to see through, and there was no telling what lied in wait within it. Jenna just hoped Shane and T-Dog returned with something—more duct tape at the least—and they could get moving soon. This sitting out in the open like a floating decoy in a pond was not exactly ideal.

Thankfully, it wasn't very long before Shane and T-Dog returned with duct tape, and Dale set to work, using half the roll to repair the severely impaired radiator hose. Jenna climbed down the ladder of the RV with Thao clinging to her back like a monkey and joined the others who'd reconvened around the side of the Winnebago, setting her boy down in front of her.

"He wants us to leave him here," Rick said to the group in a heavy, weary tone. "He doesn't wanna make the trip, says it's too much for 'im."

"And he's _lucid_?" Carol asked, bewildered like the rest of them.

"He seems to be," Rick confirmed, taking the sheriff's hat from his head and running a hand through his hair. "I would say, yes."

Jenna, like the others, was lost for words. Jim wanted them to leave him behind on the side of the road so he could undergo that painful transformation—burn through that scorching fever until he became a walker. That was…beyond grim, in her opinion. But it was his life, his death. He was granted the luxury of deciding how he went, and if this was what he'd chosen…who were they to tell him otherwise? Jenna didn't have to like it, but she could accept it, she supposed. As horrible as it made her feel.

"Back at camp," said Dale after a moment, gaining everyone's attention, "when I said Daryl might be right and you shut me down…you misunderstood," he said, speaking to Rick. "I would _never_ go along with callously killing a man, but I was just gonna suggest that we ask Jim what _he_ wants. And I think we have an answer…"

"Jus' leave him here, while we take off?" Shane asked Rick, standing beside his friend. He shook his head. "Man, I'm not sure I could live with that."

Jenna cast her eyes downward then, feeling a slight blow to the chest at those words. Because she knew that she could live with this, even if none of the others could. She lived with far worse every day… Compared to that, this was practically painless. It made her feel sick to her stomach, but it was painless, nonetheless.

She scanned her eyes around the group furtively before casting them downward once more. These people weren't like her—not at all—and she'd never felt more out of place amongst them than she did in that moment.

"It's not your call," said Lori then, taking everyone by mild surprise. Jenna looked up toward her to see her standing with her hands on her hips, staring between Rick and Shane intently. "Neither one of you," she said.

Petty as it was, Jenna was glad that she didn't have to be the one to point out that it didn't matter whether they were prepared to live with this decision or not—because it was Jim's decision to make.

Jim was then carefully carried out from the RV by Rick and Shane, and it was obvious that the infection was taking its toll on the poor man. He looked like death already, and every little movement had him wincing and groaning in pain. Whatever the infection was, it was killing him, slowly—just like it had with Josh. And it was horrible to watch. As much as she wanted to retreat back to the church van with Thao, Jenna made herself stay put and see the man off. It was the least she could do.

Shane and Rick set him down carefully so that he was sitting up against a tree. Though he was incapable of movement now, Jenna couldn't seem to stop the dark, morbid region of her mind from wondering how long it would be before he was up and moving again—searching for someone to tear into.

"Hey," Jim breathed, looking up at the treetop above him, "another damn tree," he said to Shane with a weak laugh.

"Hey, Jim…" said Shane, clearly very disconcerted by the whole situation. "You know it doesn't need to be this," he urged, as though begging the man to change his mind.

Jim closed his eyes and shook his head—ever so slowly. "No," he breathed. "It's good. Breeze feels nice…"

Shane sighed heavily, hanging his head in defeat. "Okay," he said quietly, and looked back up at Jim. "Alright." He gave the man a gentle clap on the shoulder and stepped back, giving the others room to move forward and say a final farewell.

Jacki was the first to approach him. "Jus' close your eyes, sweetie," she murmured, kneeling before him. "Don't fight."

He closed his eyes obligingly, and she kissed his cheek before stepping back, wiping at her eyes as she returned to the parked caravan. The others moved forward to say goodbye, and Rick offered him a revolver, which he denied, assuring them that they would need it more than he would. Jenna was one of the last to step forward, Thao moving with her. Seeing how heavily the man was breathing, and knowing that he was in a great deal of pain, she was careful to kneel at his side without leaning against him in anyway.

"You were right," he breathed, a small, amused grin on his sunken face. "They didn't execute me after all."

Jenna closed her eyes, thinking that an execution may have been more merciful in this case, but choosing to keep that to herself. Instead, she laid her hand over his as lightly as she could, not wanting to cause him any further pain.

"Thank you," she said softly. "Thank you for keeping the rest of us safe," she said, recalling how hard he'd fought the night of the attack.

He nodded slightly. "Keep your boy close," he said, turning his eyes to Thao. "An' keep the old Winnebago up an' runnin for me," he added with a weary laugh.

She smiled slightly and nodded, and then patted Thao's back. "Say goodbye to Jim?" she suggested, nodding at the man.

Thao patted Jim's shoulder gently, having taken note of the delicacy with which the rest of them had handled the ill man. "Bye, Jim. Go to sleep, okay?"

Jim smiled weakly and nodded. "Okay, buddy," he agreed.

Jenna gave Jim's hand the lightest of squeezes, and then rose to her feet, leading Thao back to the van. Dusty and Jacki joined her shortly after, and T-Dog, already in the driver's seat, started up the car when the caravan started moving again, one passenger short.

* * *

It was dusk by the time they reached the CDC. They'd woven carefully through the city streets, avoiding the main roads and taking back ways as often as possible. Though Jenna still thought this was a bad idea, she exited the van with the others, keeping Thao right at her left and pulling the machete from her belt as she took in their surroundings. The large building was surrounded by the bodies of dead soldiers, and the place smelled worse than anything Jenna had been exposed to for quite some time.

Carefully, the group moved forward toward the building, Rick and Shane with their guns out, on high-alert. So far, things didn't look promising. They were choking and gagging in response to the nearly overwhelming stench of rotten bodies.

"Keep movin, stay together," Rick urged them, leading the way to the front of the building.

"_Shhhh!_" Glenn urged them as they all choked and coughed.

They navigated their way through what looked like a dumping ground for fallen bodies, sometimes having to step over them. Jenna took note of a few of the civilian bodies she stepped over, and spotted a gunshot wound to the head in most—and with some contempt, she wondered whether they'd been alive or dead when they'd received that shot. She'd seen the way the military handled things.

Eventually, they reached the front of the building, where large metal shutters had been lowered, blocking their entrance. Shane gave the metal a shove to see how sturdy it was, and attempted to pull it up, to no avail. Jenna scanned her eyes around their surroundings, holding Thao close at her side. If they had to run back to the cars, she would prefer it if their path was clear.

"There's nobody here," said T-Dog breathlessly, staring at the unmoving metal shutters.

"Then why are the shutters down?" Rick demanded intently.

"Walkers!" Daryl called suddenly, and Jenna spun back around, seeing that he was right. A few walkers had wandered into the area and seemed to have spotted them, though it would take a few minutes for them to actually reach the group.

Even so, the others started to panic, and the kids began to cry out in fear.

Daryl shot down the closest walker with his Horton and spun around, glaring daggers at Rick. "You led us to a _graveyard_!" he spat accusingly.

"He made a call," Dale defended, though his voice betrayed his obvious panic.

"It was the wrong damn call!" Daryl yelled angrily.

"Shut up!" Shane said through clenched teeth, striding up to Daryl and getting in his face threateningly. "You hear me? _Shut up!_" he demanded, giving Daryl's shoulder a shove, and turned back to Rick, who was still gazing up at the shutters in disbelief. "Rick," he said, imploring his friend to see reason, "this is a dead end."

"Where're we gonna go?" Carol wept, clutching Sophia tightly.

"Shane's right," said Lori tensely to her husband, "we can't be this close to the city after dark!"

Jenna frowned slightly for a moment—what the hell did the dark have to do with anything? The city had just as many walkers roaming through it during the day as it did at night, and it wasn't like they were nocturnal. But now was hardly the time to point that out—people were panicking, and more walkers were sure to join the other few that lingered in the distance.

"Fort Benning, Rick—still an option," suggested Shane, capturing Jenna's attention as immediately as though he'd jabbed her with a red-hot fire poker.

_What? _

"On what?" snapped Andrea—loudly. "No food, no fuel, that's a hundred miles!"

"A hundred twenty-five," corrected Glenn anxiously, "I checked the map."

"Forget Fort Benning—we need answers tonight, _now_!" Lori demanded sharply.

Jenna really couldn't take this anymore, and she found that she couldn't hold her tongue that time. "Calm the _fuck_ down!" she hissed to the others at the same time Glenn shushed them again, and ignored the furious glare she received from Lori and Andrea in response. "You're worried about walkers—stop making noise," she hissed then, as she apparently needed to elaborate.

"We'll think of _something_," Rick assured his wife—though he looked like he was at the end of his rope himself.

Meanwhile, the others continued to panic, and more noise was made. Shane was urging the rest of them to head back to the cars, which Jenna was all for. The sooner they got the hell out of the city, the safer they'd be, and the sooner everyone would chill out.

"The camera—it moved!" Rick called to them, gaining everyone's attention once more.

"Rick, it's an automated device, man," Shane reasoned tensely, returning to his friend's side. "It's just gears winding down, okay? Now _c'mon_—we gotta move. This place is dead, Rick, it's dead—"

Rick broke away from Shane and pounded on the metal shutters, emitting a booming rattle that Jenna was sure carried quite a ways away.

"_Rick, there's nobody here!_" Lori screamed shrilly, holding Carl clasped against her.

"I know you're in there!" Rick yelled up to the camera.

_ For fuck's sake!_ Jenna thought in exasperation as she ran a hand through her hair, contemplating just running with Thao and grabbing their bags from the van. This was _exactly_ why she'd never stayed with a group before. If she just threw Thao over her shoulder and ran, she would be well out of the way of the handful of walkers that were making a slow, stumbling trek toward the noise, and they could be heading down an alley and into an abandoned building for the night… Then, who knew…maybe Guillermo wouldn't mind taking them in for a night or two to get themselves situated before making their next move…they could fix themselves up a car in the chop-shop and be well on their way…

"_You're killing us!_" Rick screamed at the camera while Shane dragged him away from the building. "_You're killing us!_"

And, suddenly, just as the panic and discord seemed to reach its summit, there was a loud, rattling, metallic clatter that drowned out the rest of the noise, and they turned around to gaze back at the building. The shutters had lifted, unleashing a burst of blinding white light that seemed to freeze all of them for one endless moment. Someone had opened the door…


	15. A Chance

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead—If I did, I would be in a much happier place. **

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and suggestive themes.

* * *

_"It is strange how we hold on to the pieces of the past while we wait for our futures." _  
_―Ally Condie_

* * *

A Chance

"C'mon," Shane urged them all, and Jenna was snapped back to the present, on guard again. "C'mon, y'all, get inside."

"I'll cover the back," said Rick, moving through them all and keeping his gun aimed at the handful of walkers that were slowly making their way toward the light and the noise.

Jenna moved forward with Thao, making sure to keep him securely at her side as they all rushed forward into the brightness. She secured her machete and instead pulled out her Beretta, and her eyes scanned the new surroundings immediately, very unsure of this new arrangement. How many people were in the CDC? Who exactly were they—military personnel or scientists? Could they be trusted, or should she be ready to retaliate at any moment?

"Hello?" Rick called when everyone had moved inside, his rifle held out and ready as he looked around the expansive inside of the building. "Hello?" he called again, his voice echoing.

Jenna and Dusty looked around and up at the high ceilings, searching for any living thing while Thao stood between them, his eyes turned back at the door to their right. It hadn't closed yet, and Jenna wished that whoever had let them in would shut the damn door before that group of walkers made its way—slowly but surely—inside with them. The building would be useless if it was overrun.

"Close the door," Jacki insisted, seemingly speaking to anyone and everyone in the vicinity. The message was clear; whoever had the ability to close those doors needed to do so, and soon.

"Watch for walkers," Glenn urged everyone intently.

Jenna moved forward with Thao, reaching out and taking Dusty's hand to get her to do the same; she wanted to get well away from the wide open door. Whoever had opened it didn't seem inclined to close it again, and she saw no way to close it herself. They moved more toward the group, standing among them rather than behind them. Everyone was on their guard, looking around at the dimly lit building interior with wide, alert eyes.

"Hello?" Rick called again, louder that time.

The sound of a shell being loaded into an assault rifle made Jenna's blood freeze in her veins, and she reacted automatically; she sidestepped so that Dusty was behind her, Thao between them, and aimed her Beretta toward the shadowed corner where the noise had come from.

A graying blond man in sweats and a gray t-shirt moved forward slowly, aiming an M16 out at the group as a whole. His demeanor was just as cautious and uncertain as theirs.

"Anybody infected?" he called out to them in a would-be aggressive voice.

"One of our group was," said Rick, keeping his rifle aimed at the man just as cautiously, though Jenna didn't think that was something this man needed to know. No need to lay all your cards out on the table when you have no idea who you're playing with, let alone what cards _they_ hold. "He didn't make it."

"Why are you here? What do you want?" the man asked, his words meshing together in one rapid sentence.

He moved forward slowly without lowering his gun, and Jenna kept hers raised as well. He seemed relatively harmless; more scared than anything. But people were capable of some surprising things when they were scared, and so she kept her gun leveled at the stranger to be on the safe side. If his finger started to squeeze that trigger, she'd beat him to it.

"A chance," Rick answered, his breath shaking slightly, and he began to lower his gun slowly.

The man stared at Rick for a long moment and took another few slow steps forward. "That's asking an awful lot these days," he said.

"I know," Rick admitted.

The man took several moments to study them all, seeming to be deliberating their worth, or their cost, perhaps. When his eyes landed on Jenna, he took note of her highly defensive demeanor and then spotted Thao's smaller form behind her. Understanding seemed to pass his expression before he moved on to study the rest of the group, taking note of each of them individually.

"You'll all submit to a blood-test—that's the price of admission," he said, speaking in rapid fluidity once more.

Rick nodded immediately. "We can do that."

The man lowered his rifle in the next moment and stepped forward, all caution and distrust seemingly tossed aside. "If you have anything you need to bring in, you get it now. Once this door closes it stays closed."

Jenna was not at all sure she agreed with that, but no one else seemed to find any threat in that statement. Perhaps she was just being overcautious. She didn't see any sign of any soldiers present in the building, and the building seemed to be the best alternative to what lay in wait for them outside its walls. It was just like joining the camp a few days ago…she didn't have to like it, but she would deal with it for Thao's sake.

Rick and Shane nodded, and moved back toward the door with Daryl and Glenn. Jenna motioned for Thao to stay where he was before moving toward them as they exited the building once more to retrieve their things.

"Jeez, look at em…" Glenn said in frustration when they stepped outside of the building, staring around at all of the walkers that had gathered.

They weren't too close, but they would be soon, and then they'd be a problem.

"Go," Jenna urged, nodding at the RV and the other vehicles parked in the near distance. "Fast, in and out—I'll cover you," she promised.

Glenn nodded, seeming heartened slightly, and moved forward with Rick and Daryl.

"Jenna, go on," Shane insisted, nodding his head back toward the building, pausing in his tracks. "Go on, girl, we got this. Get back inside."

"Like hell," she said simply, stowing her gun back into her belt and freeing her machete instead, switching once more. "Just go, I'm fine. The sooner you get everything, the sooner we can get inside. _Go_."

Shane seemed to be struggling within himself and cursed in frustration. "You do not go near them. Don't go further than you are now. You hear me?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, officer, now _go_."

He sped off toward the cars with the other three, and Jenna watched him go, being sure he got there safely, before turning her attention toward the rest of the area. She just had to keep it clear for them to be able to run back to the building without hindrance.

She kept her eyes scanning the area constantly, checking the progress of Shane and the others' gathering efforts, and monitoring the slow but steady progression of the enlarged gathering of walkers. Any that got a little too close were put down by a sliced skull. No need to waste the already sparse ammunition, or draw any further attention with all the noise, for that matter. It was just over a dozen walkers to worry about now—if she starting firing her gun, it would be over a hundred in a matter of minutes.

After several tense minutes, Shane and the other three gathered as much of everyone's supplies as they could possibly carry, and rushed back toward the building. Jenna gave the slowly advancing walkers another glance, deemed them to be only a mild threat, and met them halfway, taking a bag from Glenn as they all ran for the open door again.

Dale and T-Dog stood guard and ushered them inside, guns raised at the walkers in the distance just in case.

Once they were inside, T-Dog and Dale pulled the swinging glass doors closed, and the man swiped a card key over a panel on the wall at the entrance. "Vi," he said, speaking into the device, "seal the main entrance, and kill the power up here."

The large metal shutters lowered back into place beyond the swinging glass doors, and though Jenna knew it was safer inside than out, she couldn't deny that she felt suddenly trapped.

She covered the blade of the machete and tied it to her belt again before moving back to Thao, who rushed toward her immediately and wrapped his arms around her middle. She smoothed a hand up and down his back soothingly, and Glenn took the bag from her again so he could set it over to the side with the others for the time being.

"Rick Grimes," said Rick to the man, introducing himself and thanking him in the same statement.

The man eyed Rick for a moment. "Dr. Edwin Jenner," he responded.

He motioned for them to follow him, and Jenna took Thao's hand after hoisting his and her own bag over her shoulder, walking with the group, her Beretta held out in her right hand again. She didn't want to be taken by surprise by anything around the many corners of this unexplored territory.

They all filed into what had to be the largest elevator Jenna had ever seen. Even so, it was only just large enough to fit all of them in one load. Jenner stood at the front near the door, and Jenna kept an eye on the M16 hanging from his shoulder.

_Relax_, she told herself, shifting her weight from her right foot to her left. She took in a slow, silent, deep breath to steady herself, cleansing away the tension in her body, and in her mind. A subtle, yet very warm, pleasant scent caught her attention in that moment, relaxing her further. Hmm… Where had she smelled that scent before? It was a strangely soothing scent; warm, sweetly woodsy.

"Doctors always go around packin heat like that?" Daryl asked, nodding at Jenner's rifle, and Jenna was brought back to the present once more.

"No, there were plenty left lying around, I familiarized myself," Jenner responded in quick fluidity, as was customary for him, Jenna gathered. "But you look harmless enough," he added to them as a group. "Except you," he said to Carl, a semblance of a smile adorning his pale face. "I'll have to keep my eye on you."

Carl smirked slightly up at the man, and Jenna found herself almost smirking too. Maybe this man wasn't so bad after all. He seemed harmless enough as well, though obviously not accustomed to interacting with strangers. She wondered how long he'd been in the CDC. Or maybe he just wasn't exactly a people person—she could relate to that.

The elevator came to a stop and they filed out into a wide hallway. Jenna looked up and down both ways, seeing nothing but walls lined with doors and light fixtures along the ceiling. Still, there was no sign of any other people in the building—living or otherwise. She wondered where everyone had gone, unless they were somewhere else in the building. The place was expansive, after all. There were plenty of rooms she hadn't even seen yet.

"Are we underground?" Carol asked Jenner as they walked along in a group behind him.

"Are you claustrophobic?" he asked, turning to look back at her.

"A little," she replied.

"Try not to think about it," said Jenner, turning back around as they continued their trek through the long hallway.

Lori placed a comforting hand on Carol's shoulder before moving to catch up with Carl. Rick and Shane continued to look around the area attentively, guns out. Sophia walked closely beside her mother, her arms wrapped around Eliza's rag doll securely, and looked around furtively, as though afraid of something dangerous bursting through one of the many doors at any moment. Jenna couldn't blame her; she was also wondering if any unpleasant surprises lay in wait for them behind any one of those doors.

They entered a huge, dark room. Through the dimly glowing light from the hallway, Jenna could make out many computer monitors and some high-tech equipment on the ceiling. It looked very much like a research center; clean, metallic, plastic, smooth.

"Vi," Jenner called, "turn on the lights in the big room."

With a surge of electronic noise, lights illuminated the room, forming a circle of glowing fixtures on the ceiling. Apart from the high-tech computers, the theatre-sized screen at the front of the room, and the work stations, the room was vacant.

"Welcome to zone five," said Jenner, walking further into the room.

They followed after him at a more leisurely pace, looking all around the area, taking it all in curiously.

"Where is everybody?" Rick asked Jenner. "The other doctors, the staff?"

Jenner turned around almost reluctantly. "I'm it," he said simply. "It's just me here."

Jenna was both relieved, and unsettled at once. This was the CDC. This was where they were _supposedly_ were working on a cure. If it was down to just one man—well, so much for that.

"What about the person you were speaking with?" Lori asked a bit cautiously. "Vi?"

"Vi," Jenner called again, "say hello to our guests…tell them, welcome."

A moment later, an automated voice permeated the room, seemingly from the ceiling as a whole. "Hello, guests. Welcome," said the automated female voice.

"I'm all that's left," Jenner told them when they all turned their gazes back to him. "I'm sorry," he added then, knowing how disappointed they must've been by this news.

While he led them out of the large room and back down the hallway, Jenna looked back at the darkening room as they walked further and further away from it. At the far end of the room directly across from the doorway was a timer on the wall, showing a countdown. The numbers glared bright red in the darkness; 17:47:53.

She wondered vaguely what the countdown was for, but when the group started to turn into a room on the left ahead of her, she shifted her gaze back to the front and led Thao in along with her. Her eyes scanned the area automatically, taking note of the many chairs and the counters and cabinets that lined the perimeter. It all looked very clinical.

Jenner asked them to take a seat while he drew blood from each of them in turn, being thorough and precise. She stowed her gun into her belt again and waited, watching as each of them took a turn sitting across from Jenner at the front of the room.

When it was her turn, Thao stood and moved with her automatically. Jenner looked like he was about to say something about this, but decided not to—wisely, in Jenna's opinion.

"Does is hurt?" Thao asked while he watched Jenner put a needle into Jenna's left arm.

"No, not very much," she assured him. "It just feels like someone's pinching you too hard," she explained, giving him something to draw parallels from. He nodded, seeming to understand, and watched as Jenner drew blood into a vial.

Jenner covered the puncture mark with a bandage, and looked up at Thao.

"Here, buddy," said Jenna, and helped Thao into her lap. "Your turn."

She helped him roll up his sleeve and took hold of his right hand while Jenner swabbed a small amount of iodine on the inside of his left elbow. Thao watched very attentively while Jenner inserted the needle and attached the vial, and Jenna was grateful when he didn't become distressed in any way.

After Thao had been bandaged, she led him back to their seat.

"Not too bad, huh, bud?" said Shane lightly to Thao, ruffling his hair, and earning a laugh from the child.

"What's the point?" Andrea asked Jenner while she had her blood drawn, and Shane and Jenna turned their attention toward them. "If we were infected we'd all be running a fever."

"I've already broken every rule in the book letting you in here," Jenner replied. "Let me just, at least be thorough." He finished with her arm and taped a bandage over the puncture mark. "All done," he said, placing the vial with the rest.

Andrea stood up slowly and paused, gripping the back of the chair and she exhaling heavily, closing her eyes. She looked like she was light-headed. Jacki moved to help her and guided her away gently.

"You okay?" Jenner asked warily.

"She hasn't eaten in days," Jacki answered. "None of us have."

Jenner seemed to deliberate over that information for a moment before standing up. "Well, follow me," he said to them. "There's plenty of food left."

Heartened, the group followed him through the halls once more, and he led them to what looked to be the CDC equivalent to a dining room, with a long table in the center, counters lining most of the walls, cabinets that were presumably filled with food items, a large refrigerator on one side, and a coffee bar on the other side of the room. Jenna had to admit, she was impressed. And so were the rest of them, as the tension was suddenly evaporated at the sight of an actual dining area and food that hadn't been hunted or gathered.

Jenner helped them prepare a good meal of pasta, and they all gathered around the table to eat, drink, and be merry. The wine was passed around until almost everyone had a glass for themselves.

Dusty passed the bottle to Jenna after pouring herself a glass, and Jenna handed the bottle over to T-Dog without pouring any for herself. Instead, she split a can of Coke with Thao. She took a drink and the cool, fizzing, sweet liquid coursed down her throat in a familiar tingle that she hadn't realized she'd missed so much until now.

"No wine for you, Miss Mighty Mouse?" T-Dog asked jokingly, pouring his own glass.

She laughed lightly. "No, I'm good, thanks," she said, and turned her attention to Dale, who was trying to persuade Lori to let Carl have a bit of wine.

"You know, in Italy, children have a little bit of wine with dinner," said Dale as he poured a glass and handed it to Lori. "And in France."

"Well, when Carl is in Italy or France he can have some then," said Lori amusedly.

Rick laughed comfortably. "What's it gonna hurt, c'mon," he said to his wife. "C'mon," he urged when she didn't respond, but continued to look at him with narrowed eyes and a smirk.

"Alright," said Lori, giving up.

"Here you are, young lad," said Dale, handing Carl a glass with a small amount of wine.

Carl took the glass eagerly, a look of elated anticipation on his face, and Jenna bit her lip to stifle her laughter, knowing what was sure to be coming as soon as he took a drink. Sure enough, when Carl raised the glass to his lips and let the red wine pour into his mouth, he put the glass back down with a grimace.

"Ewww…" he said in surprise, and the group joined together in laughter.

Lori looked smugly satisfied and patted Carl on the back. "That's my boy," she said, taking a sip of her own wine.

"That tastes nasty," Carl said to Sophia while the laughter died down.

Shane let out a breath of laughter. "Why don't you stick to soda pop there, bud?" he suggested amusedly.

"It tastes way better than _that_," said Carl defensively while the others laughed lightly.

"I'll drink to that," said Jenna to Carl, raising her glass of Coke to him. "Forget them, man. That'll leave more soda for you and me," she said with a wink.

He grinned and reached over to clink his glass with hers.

"Not you, Glenn," said Daryl, pouring himself a second glass of wine.

"What?" asked Glenn in puzzlement.

"Drink up, man," Daryl replied. "I wanna see how red your face can get," he taunted, bringing about more laughter from the others.

It was apparent that most of them were going to be getting a bit tipsy tonight. Jenna smirked amusedly and finished her plate of food, feeling full for the first time in a long time. It wasn't nearly as good as her father's homemade pasta, but it was better than plain, cooked squirrel meat.

Rick coughed and cleared his throat before standing up, effectively getting everyone's attention. "It seems to me we haven't thanked our host properly," he said.

Everyone voiced their agreement merrily, and Jenna noticed that Jenner's expression was much more somber than the others'.

"Thank you," said Rick, raising his glass to Jenner.

Jenner just nodded and raised his own glass in return. It seemed that he was uncomfortable with the praise, and Jenna wondered exactly how long he'd been hiding in the building on his own. She wondered why he was on his own in the first place, but didn't think now would be a good time to ask. If the answer was ugly, the kids didn't need to hear it. And she didn't want to burst the bubble of bliss that had encased everyone just yet. They deserved—they _needed_—this night at least to relax, unwind, and enjoy themselves for once.

Once dinner was finished, each of them having eaten to full satisfaction—a luxury, that—Jenner showed them the rooms they could take which lined the hallway just off the dining area.

"There's a rec. room you kids might like," he said, pointing down the hall, and turning to lean down toward Carl and Sophia. "Just don't turn on any of the videogames, or anything that draws power, alright?"

They nodded and dashed off toward the rec. room eagerly, and Carol followed after them, a small smile on her face. That was a nice change.

"Same goes to the rest of you," said Jenner to the rest of the group. "If you shower, go easy on the hot water."

With that, he left them to choose their own room, but none of them moved from the hallway. They all looked around at each other, bewildered elation rising in the atmosphere. Those words held more luxury in them than the mention of a warm meal.

"Hot water?" Glenn asked the group, as though to be sure he hadn't imagined those words.

"That's what the man said," said T-Dog, a grin stretching across his face.

Jenna and Dusty exchanged pleased smirks, and everyone was suddenly picking a room as quickly as possible, as though the en suite bathrooms would disappear if they didn't get to them in time.

"Mind if I bunk with you?" Dusty asked while Jenna tossed her bag onto a cot. "Got used to sharin a space with y'all, I guess," she explained with a light laugh.

"Be my guest," Jenna replied easily, hanging Thao's jacket on the back of a chair. "You can shower first. I'm gonna take Thao to the rec. room."

"Thanks," said Dusty, sounding relieved, and Jenna didn't know whether the relief stemmed from the fact that she'd be able to enjoy a hot shower for the first time in a long time, or that she wouldn't have to sleep alone.

Dusty walked into the bathroom, and Jenna looked down at Thao who stood at her side, looking around the room curiously, and smiled slightly. This was a nice change for him.

"Come on," she said, taking his hand. "Wanna go see the rec. room?"

He nodded happily, and she led him out of the room and down the hallway. The sound of someone stumbling in the hallway behind them made her turn her head to see who was causing all the noise. Daryl had stumbled into his bedroom door, a new bottle of what looked like whiskey in his hands. Apparently he'd made a trip back to the dining room for a refill.

Jenna shook her head amusedly as Thao tugged her hand to get them moving again, seeming to want to drag her down the hallway in his haste to get to the promised rec. room. She'd never seen him so overexcited, and she recalled the way Josh had reacted to soda when he was Thao's age. With a fond smirk, she let her boy lead the way, pulling her by the hand while they rushed down the hallway.

The rec. room was a bit bigger than she'd thought it would be, and there was plenty of entertainment provided that didn't require electricity. Carol was sitting on a plush couch, reading a book, while Carl and Sophia played a game of checkers at the coffee table nearby. To the right was a row of bookshelves that could have been stocked a bit better in Jenna's opinion, but beggars couldn't be choosers. At the left was a pool table, a football table, and a ping pong table. Straight ahead was a cabinet of sorts that seemed to house a selection of board games and card games. Jenna wondered vaguely if anyone in the group played poker—she hadn't played in a while.

"Hey, look—books!" Thao said in delight, pointing at the shelf and shaking Jenna's hand. And then, barely a second later—"Cool! What's this?" he asked excitedly, pointing at the football table.

"That's a game," Jenna said as they approached it. "Have you ever seen a soccer game?" she asked, and he nodded. "It's kind of like that, but it's all on this little table. Want me to show you how to play?" He nodded again, very eagerly, and she laughed lightly. "Alright, let's get you something to stand on so you can see," she said, and brought a small chair over to the side of the football table.

Once he was kneeling on the chair, Jenna dropped the ball onto the middle of the table and proceeded to show him how to play the game.

By the time Dusty entered the rec. room to tell Jenna the shower was open, Thao had definitely gotten the hang of the game, and he wasn't ready to quit anytime soon. Dusty opted to play with him so Jenna could shower, and she kissed his head before exiting the room, passing Lori in the hallway, who was headed in the opposite direction. Her hair was partially damp, and she had a glass of wine in her hand.

Jenna smirked to herself again as she entered her room and closed the door behind her out of habit. Everyone besides the kids were at least partially drunk, much to her amusement. Not that it would present much of a problem for her, though. She was equipped to handling the intoxicated, fortunately. Her friends had given her plenty of practice.

The shower was unlike anything she had felt in a long, long time. The hot water was euphoria. The quality of the water was obvious, too. Back at camp, all that was available was the water from the quarry. It was better than nothing, that was for certain, but it was also not the cleanest source of water, and it definitely wasn't _hot_. The heat was the best part, really. It made all the difference.

Jenna closed her eyes and stood beneath the constant torrent of the hot water, and for a moment, she was able to recall what life used to be like. Simple things like hot showers, and real beds, warm meals, fluorescent lights…those things that were so constant before and taken for granted…they were very true luxuries now. Jenna didn't know how long this haven would last, but for the moment, she didn't let herself worry about it. She just stood and let the hot water pour over her and warm her down to her core, relaxing her muscles more thoroughly than she could recall.

Simple things…simple things were gifts.


	16. Midnight Conversations

**Disclaimer: I think it goes without saying that I do not own The Walking Dead. **

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and suggestive themes.

* * *

_"The most fruitful and natural exercise for our minds is, in my opinion, conversation." _  
_―Michel de Montaigne_

* * *

Midnight Conversations

Jenna wandered back down to the rec. room in search of some quality reading material. The four books Dale had in his RV had failed miserably to hold her interest, but she had higher hopes for the bookshelves.

The room was empty, which didn't surprise her. Just about everyone had gone to sleep—or passed out, one of the two. Thao was sound asleep in their room—which was where Jenna had found Dusty, passed out on the couch—having played another three full games of table soccer after his shower, and then nodded off in Jenna's arms while she'd carried him back down the hallway, apparently crashing hard from his sugar and caffeine rush. It was good to know that he'd be able to get a full night's sleep without having to worry about being ready to jump up and run at a moment's notice.

She perused the shelves, running her fingers over the spines lightly as she scanned the titles and authors.

In a matter of barely more than a minute, she had a small stack on the counter beside her. Some were newer works that she hadn't had the chance to try, but had been meaning to, such as _The Night Circus _and _The Hangman's Daughter_ series. Then there was _Oliver Twist_—she'd always been meaning to read that one—and _Sense and Sensibility_. And, despite how morbid life was already, she had to pull a compilation of works by Poe from the shelf as well—she couldn't help it.

Just as she'd decided she had a good amount to bring back to her room for the time-being, a familiar title caught her eye.

She reached forward and pulled _The Outsiders_ from the shelf, looking over the cover fondly. Perhaps she'd reread this one again. It wouldn't take very long anyway. And just looking at the cover brought Danny's face to mind so clearly, she wasn't sure that she _could_ return to the book to the shelf now. This was his favorite book.

Shaking her head slightly to clear it, she left the books at the counter and wandered over toward the pool table. It wasn't as intricate as the antique model in her grandparents' basement, but it was in great shape. She pulled a cue from the rack on the wall and took a square of chalk back to the table. Racking up the balls, she chalked the end of the cue and lined up the cue ball. At the same time she sent the cue ball cracking through the formation, the door opened loudly, making her jump in surprise. Automatically, she dropped the cue on the table and pulled the gun from her belt, ready to aim at the sudden presence in the room.

She sighed heavily and relaxed as Shane made his way into the room, albeit a bit unsteadily. The bottle of Bacardi in his hand explained everything.

"Jesus, man, you scared the hell out of me," she said, stowing her gun back into her belt.

He laughed and put his hands up apologetically. "Sorry, Mighty Mouse," he said, and she couldn't help but to smirk amusedly. He had yet to use that nickname until now. "Never thought I'd see you jump outta your skin like that, though," he noted, placing his free hand on the back of the couch for support. "You're always so _calm_…so calm when everyone else is losin their head."

"Yeah, well, there's a first time for everything," she said with breath of laughter, lining up her shot again to sink the solid red ball in the corner pocket.

"What're you doin in here?" he asked curiously after watching her make her shot and move to line up the next.

"Playing pool," she said simply, assuming he wouldn't retain much of what she said anyway.

He laughed slightly and leaned against the back of the couch fully to face her. "Naw, I mean…do you always wander off on your own on purpose? You do that a lot, you know."

Hmm. She hadn't realized he was so observant.

"It's nice to be alone sometimes," she replied, sinking another ball. "What are you doing in here? I believe the booze is in the dining room."

He laughed again and held up the bottle, looking at it briefly. Jenna noticed it was half empty. "I think I'm good for now," he said, taking another drink. "Saw the light on down the hallway. Wondered who was still up. Still can't sleep even now, huh?"

For being intoxicated, he was remarkably observant, she noted.

"Sleep isn't something I'm used to getting very much of these days," she said simply. "My internal clock only seems to allow for two to three hours of sleep lately."

He let out a breath of laughter. "You're funny, you know that?"

She laughed that time, straightening up and setting the cue down on the table's surface. "You're drunk, you know that?"

He laughed again and nodded, looking down at the bottle in his hand once more. "I think you're the only one here who ain't," he pointed out, looking back up at her. "I may be a cop, but I promise not to bust you for underage drinkin," he joked, holding the bottle out toward her.

She smirked and walked over toward the mini fridge at the other side of the room, pulling out a bottle of water.

"I'm twenty-two," she said as she approached him. "I've been able to drink legally for over a year."

"You just choose not to, hm?" he deduced.

"Yep," she said, taking the bottle from his hand. "Why don't you switch with me?" she suggested, swapping the bottle of rum for the bottle of water. "You'll thank me in the morning, trust me," she said with a laugh when he rolled his eyes. "You'll probably be the only one without a hangover tomorrow, anyway."

"You're used to takin care of people, ain't you?" he inquired, taking a drink of the water while she set the Bacardi on the counter.

She shrugged and leaned her side against the counter. "I guess you could say that. Just comes from being part of a big family."

"Were you the oldest?" he asked curiously. "You seem like you were always the responsible one, is why I'm askin," he added, moving around to sit on the arm of the couch.

She laughed lightly and moved back toward the bookshelf, as it was easier to face him from that spot. "No, I had an older sister. She was twenty-seven. But I was still the responsible one—as far as our dad knew, anyway."

"What's her name?" he wondered, slurring just slightly.

"Angela," Jenna answered.

He nodded, seeming to mull that information over, and then shook his head. "Sorry—don't mean to pry," he said then, running a hand through his partially damp hair. "Just…hell, you been with us for a few days now…and I just realized I hardly know anything about you."

She smirked slightly. "I don't know much about you either, you know."

He laughed and nodded. "True, that's true," he agreed. "Alright why don't I tell you somethin, then?" He paused, deliberating. "I used to play football in high school with Rick."

"That doesn't surprise me," she said amusedly, running her fingers over the spines of the books in her stack absentmindedly.

"What, I look like a jock to you?" he asked amusedly.

She nodded, laughing. "Yes, actually," she replied honestly.

"Alright, fair enough," he said, laughing himself. "Your turn," he said then, nodding at her. "Tell me somethin I don't know—_surprise_ me," he taunted.

She deliberated for a moment, and then smirked. "I speak fluent Russian."

His brows raised in surprise, and she laughed again in amusement—he had definitely not been expecting that.

"Prove it," he challenged.

She smirked again, and rattled off something in rapid, fluid Russian, knowing there was no way in hell that he would understand the statement. He blinked, stunned again, and then laughed with her.

"What did that mean?" he wondered curiously.

"I said, 'I'm heading to bed. You finish your water and do the same before you pass out on that couch,'" she translated.

He laughed lightly and nodded, pushing himself up right so that he wasn't leaning against the arm of the couch anymore. She eyed his movements, taking note of how unsteady he was on his feet. It wasn't _too_ bad, she decided, and she had to admit, she was impressed at how well he could hold so much alcohol.

She grabbed the stack of books and he opened the door for her, turning off the light in the rec. room as they entered the hallway. The darkness wasn't such a hindrance to her, but it seemed to be highly problematic to Shane. He held a hand out and let it trail against the wall at his left, apparently to keep himself both oriented and steady. She wondered how long it would take before he found something to trip over, and hoped his room wasn't far away.

Thankfully, he seemed to have located his room, for he reached out and clumsily opened the door—stumbling through the threshold and landing on the floor in a half-seated, half-laying position, propped up by his elbows.

Jenna couldn't stop the snort of laughter, and apparently, neither could Shane. She set her books down on the floor beside the wall—so there would be nothing for another drunk wanderer to trip over, just in case—and moved to assist him. She flicked on the light and stepped over his arm as she entered the room.

"Here, let me help you," she said, trying and failing not to laugh, and reached out to take his proffered hand in both of hers.

She struggled to pull him to his feet, having to use all of her weight to accomplish the seemingly simple task. In his defense, he did what he could to be more of a help than a hindrance, though his coordination was a little off, so when he reached for dresser to use as leverage, his hand slipped over the edge almost immediately, and Jenna almost dropped him.

With their combined efforts, they managed to get him standing again, and Jenna pushed him gently in the direction of the cot while she retrieved the water bottle he'd dropped in the fall. She was about to toss it to him, but thought better of it and moved to hand it to him instead, deciding that would probably be safer for him.

"Thank you, darlin," he said amusedly, taking the bottle from her.

She snorted out a light breath of laughter. "Don't mention it, just drink that before you pass out," she reminded him.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, taking an obliging swig.

"You'll thank me in the morning," she repeated, smirking, and headed back toward the door.

"'Night," he called after her.

She laughed under her breath again. "Goodnight," she mirrored, and closed the door behind her before retrieving her books.

Making her way down the hall in the darkness, she noticed that the light in the dining room was still on. She wondered vaguely where exactly the building drew power from. Surely it had its own source, but how long could it last? Well, it would be beneficial to save as much of it as possible, she decided, and hadn't Jenner advised them to go easy on the power anyway?

She entered her room, finding Dusty asleep on the couch with Thao nestled in the blankets of the cot not far away. Smiling slightly, she walked past them and set the books on the small table that housed their bags. Unzipping her sweatshirt and tossing it aside, she exited the room again to go and see if anyone was still occupying the dining room. If they weren't, she'd turn off the light after making herself some tea. She hadn't had tea in a long time, and surely there would be some, if there was coffee.

Turning through the doorway of the illuminated room, she was startled slightly to see Jenner sitting alone at the long table, a glass of water in his hand.

"Hello," she greeted, getting over her shock, and not finding a reason to be alarmed, really. She had her gun on her, in any case.

He nodded and smiled politely. "Hello," he mirrored quietly. "I think your friends may have commandeered all of the alcohol, unfortunately," he added jokingly.

She smirked and nodded toward the coffee bar at her left. "I was actually looking for tea."

He smiled again, letting out a breath of laughter, and nodded. "Help yourself," he invited genially, his voice still soft.

"Thank you," she replied, making her way over to the coffee bar and locating a box of her favorite tea; Stash brand, Chai Green flavor. "And thank you for your hospitality, by the way. Thao had a blast in the rec. room."

"Is he your boy?" he asked after a moment.

"Kind of," she answered, steeping the tea a bit before coming to sit at the table across from him. "Well…he is now in a way, I suppose."

Jenner nodded, seeming to understand the basis of what she meant. "It must have been rough out there, with a small child to worry about," he noted, taking a sip of his water.

"Yeah, pretty rough," she agreed. "But as long as we stayed out of the cities, we were okay."

Jenner looked back at her, his blue eyes seeming to study her anew as he considered her words. She might have been uncomfortable by his scrutiny if there wasn't something so…forlorn about the set of his eyes. She wondered what exactly he'd gone through, trapped in here as he was. He must have lost someone, she knew—everyone had.

"Outside, when the others were getting the bags out of your vehicles," he began after a moment, "you seemed pretty capable. You didn't need any help out there."

She shrugged, taking a sip of warm tea, savoring the flavor. "Eventually, after you've killed more of them than you can count, it's practically muscle-memory." _And you get used to the cold, _she added internally, using Dusty's term for lack of a more suitable one.

"You don't bother with your gun?" he inquired curiously.

"Guns are loud," she said by way of explanation. "It's smarter to avoid using a gun whenever possible. Mine's more of a last resort most of the time."

He nodded, mulling that over. "The rest of your group don't seem to follow in accordance."

She laughed lightly, raising and lowering the teabag a few times. "They didn't have the same start I did. They haven't spent time on their own, without the protection of the group. Guns have always served them well."

"You haven't been with them long?" he assumed, and she shook her head. "Where did you come from? You don't seem to be from around the same parts as the rest of them."

She smirked. "My lack of a southern drawl tell you that?" she asked, and he laughed lightly. "I'm from the West Coast—Washington state."

His blond brows shot up in surprise. "That's quite a ways away," he noted, stunned. "Did you travel all the way here on your own?"

"At first," she replied. "In Colorado, I found Thao. He's been with me ever since. We were passing through Atlanta, searching for any supplies we could find, when we met the others. They were camped out at a quarry just outside of the city. Glenn was making a run into the city when we met. He brought me back to their camp."

"What brought you to Georgia?" Jenner wondered.

"I was looking for someone," she answered after a pause. "Still am, actually. It's a long shot, I know, but…they're all I have left."

Her eyes rose to meet Jenner's again, and the deep sympathy she saw there almost killed her. He knew how hopeless it was for her to be searching the way she was, he knew that her efforts would most likely be in vain—he just didn't have the heart to say any of that to her. Not that he needed to, for she knew all of that already. She just couldn't bring herself to let go of that vain, desperate hope.

"So you made it all the way from Washington to Georgia on your own, with a child to look after," he said after a moment of silence between them, presumably changing the subject. "That's quite a feat. How did you manage it?" he asked, sounding honestly curious.

She could understand his surprise, of course.

"When it's just two of you, it's easy to keep moving," she answered. "You can go for miles without having to stop for anything, because you only have the two of you to worry about. You stay quiet when you need to, which is most of the time, and when you need to stop and rest, you make damn sure nothing is going to be able to take you by surprise when you do. The trick is to avoid cities, suburbs…any place that used to house a large population. If you can avoid the dead, that makes your life a whole lot easier. And when you find yourself in a situation where you can't avoid them, which is inevitable, you take them out as quickly and quietly as possible."

He seemed impressed by her lecture, and she smirked slightly.

"And make sure your clothes are durable," she added as an afterthought. "Leather saved my life," she said, remembering the day her leather jacket had been tough enough to withstand the jaws of a walker.

"You don't even seem afraid of all of that," he noted after letting it all sink in.

She shrugged slightly. "The dead don't scare me very much anymore," she admitted. "As long as you're not swarmed by them, you're alright."

He nodded, leaning back in his seat to study her again. "You've adapted."

Again, she shrugged. "Didn't have a choice, really."

He laughed wryly at that, nodding in agreement. "Very true," he concurred, and then fixed his gaze to her, studying her once more, as though he hadn't encountered anything quite like her before. "What did you do before?"

She smirked. "I was almost through with college—I was planning to become a kindergarten teacher," she explained dryly. "And I was a bookkeeper at a Barns & Noble in the evenings to help my roommate pay rent."

He laughed again, obviously not having been expecting that answer. "And sometime in between you learned to use a firearm and a machete," he mused.

"I've been certified since I was seventeen," she explained. She pulled her Beretta from her belt and set in on the table in front of her. "I've owned this for over a year."

He frowned. "That's pretty unusual for someone from the city."

She shrugged again. "Military boyfriend," she said explanatorily, stowing the gun safely back into her belt. "As for the machete…that was more trial-and-error than anything."

"Boyfriend didn't make it?" Jenner asked carefully after a moment of consideration.

Jenna shook her head, being sure to keep her thoughts from traveling down that particular path. "No, he didn't," she said quietly.

"I'm sorry," said Jenner sincerely, and the sympathy in his eyes was very evident.

She nodded silently, taking another sip of her tea. After deliberating for a few moments, she voiced the question that had been twisting around in the back of her mind since they'd arrived.

"What happened here, Edwin?" she asked, locking her eyes with his. "You said you're the only one left…what happened? It doesn't look like this place was overrun, so why is it empty? Why did the military clear out…"

She trailed off then, a thought rising to the surface; perhaps the military was the answer to her inquiries. Had there been a massacre that had left only one survivor? But then where were the bodies?

He just stared at her with slightly widened eyes, as though he could not believe she had just asked those questions. Jenna was just beginning to wonder whether or not she had brought up a particularly painful subject, and was about to apologize, when he shook his head as though to clear it and spoke.

"You called me Edwin," he noted, still seemingly a bit stunned.

She frowned, puzzled. "You introduced yourself to Rick as Dr. Edwin Jenner…" she reminded him, wondering if she'd heard him wrong before.

He laughed lightly and shook his head again. "Yes, that's my name," he said, and she was even more perplexed, "but nobody's called me by my first name for a while. None of your group have either."

She laughed then, understanding. "I don't make a habit of addressing people by their last name," she said simply.

He nodded, understanding, but Jenna couldn't help but wonder if there was more to the explanation than he was telling her. There was just something about the faraway, longing set of his eyes as he gazed off to the side…

"When things got bad, a lot of people just left," he began eventually, "went off to be with their families. And when things got worse…when the military coordinate got overrun, the rest bolted."

"Everyone?" she asked, finding that hard to believe. It was surely safer in the building…even in all the chaos before, that had to count for a lot.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Many couldn't face walking out the door. They…opted out…" Jenna closed her eyes, understanding what he meant. "There was a rash of suicides… That was a bad time…" he said, his voice trailing off.

"You didn't leave," Jenna noted after a few silent moments. "How come?"

Jenner's gaze was leveled at the table between them now. "I just kept working," he said quietly. "Hoping to do some good."

She nodded silently, mulling that over. "That must be hard," she mused. "That's a lot of work for one person."

"Too much work," he said heavily, a defeated note to his voice.

"I would imagine so," she agreed. "You did what you could with what you had…that counts for something."

He looked up at her then, his expression caught somewhere between shock and perplexity. "You don't sound very disappointed," he noted slowly.

She gave him a wry smile and finished off the last of her tea. "I don't know about the others, but I didn't come here expecting to be given all the answers…I didn't have much hope for a miracle cure that would undo all of this," she said, waving a hand vaguely.

His head tilted to the side slightly, and he studied her with newfound interest once more. "You didn't strike me as the type to give up so easily."

She shook her head and leaned back in her seat. "I haven't given up," she corrected. "I'm just not expecting to be rescued. The others, most of them…they seem to be waiting for that. Salvation."

"You aren't," he deduced.

"No," she said, shaking her head again. "You can't sit around and hold out for salvation anymore, not in this world. It's up to you to keep yourself alive. You have to make things okay." She traced a finger around the rim of the empty mug absently, deliberating. "I wish the rest would see things that way sometimes, but for some of them…that hope is all that's keeping them going at this point. How could I take that away from someone?"

He let out a breath of laughter, and she turned her eyes back up to him, puzzled.

"You remind me of someone I knew," he explained. "Someone I worked with. She was brilliant. She saw the bigger picture while others could only see bits and pieces of the whole. You look a lot like her, when she was younger."

"What was her name?" Jenna asked after a moment.

"Candace," he said, smiling slightly. "Brilliant woman," he said again, and that seemed to conclude the explanation.

Jenna had a sneaking suspicion that Candace was more than just a coworker, but it wasn't like she was going to point it out to him. That would be cruel indeed. So she stood and brought the empty mug to the sink and headed to the door.

"Thank you again, Edwin," she said sincerely.

He nodded, ducking his head in a manner that suggested he didn't take well to shows of gratitude.

Jenna headed down the hall and quietly opened the door to her room, finding Dusty and Thao right where she'd left them. Entering the bathroom, she splashed her face with cool water. She could hardly recall the last time she'd spoken so much, and she felt strangely unsettled. Hmm. Conversation wasn't something she'd grown re-accustomed to yet, apparently. Well, it would just take time, she supposed. And, at least she had some answers to settle her inquiries.

Drying her face with a towel—a clean towel, no less—she decided to fill her hipflask with water, just to be on the safe side. She didn't want it to be empty in case she needed it sometime in the future, whenever that may be.

Twisting the cap back on and stowing the flask back into her pocket, Jenna kicked off her shoes and crawled into bed beside Thao. The mattress of the cot was much softer than the ground, and Jenna tallied that onto the list of luxuries she'd been fortunate enough to experience that day.

Choosing a soothing melody to focus on, Jenna remembered all of the chords, and brought them to life in her mind, effectively lulling herself to sleep.


	17. TS-19

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead, nor do I make any profit from this.**

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and suggestive themes.

* * *

_"The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing."_

_―Socrates_

* * *

TS-19

Jenna laughed lightly upon entering the dining room the next morning, seeing that most of everyone present was hung-over to some degree. Dusty and Glenn looked particularly worse for wear, both of them slumped over in their seats, heads resting on the table.

"What's wrong with Dusty?" Thao asked quietly as Jenna helped him into a seat.

"Dusty had a little too much to drink last night," Jenna replied amusedly, taking a seat between Thao and Glenn, Dusty sitting across from her.

She mumbled something that sounded close to "fuck you," and Jenna laughed again, thanking Daryl for the glass of orange juice he handed her. She noted that he didn't look too bad, but assumed that Daryl had experienced at least a few nights much more wild than this last one.

"'Mornin," greeted Rick as he entered the room, his eyes heavily lidded.

"Are you hung-over?" Carl asked his father amusedly. "Mom said you would be."

"Your mom is right," said Rick, taking a seat beside his wife.

"Mom knows that annoying habit," said Lori lightly, smirking at him, and took a bite of her bacon rind.

"Eggs are ready," T-Dog announced, bringing the scrambled-egg filled pan to the table. "Powder, but I do em _good_."

Glenn groaned painfully, running a hand through his black hair.

"Protein helps the hangover," T-Dog taunted, serving up a good amount of eggs onto Glenn's plate.

"Don't ever, ever, ever, ever let me drink again," Glenn moaned, sitting up slightly and holding his head in his hands while Jacki took the seat at his other side, rubbing his back in soothing circles.

Jenna laughed and got to her feet, retrieving three bottles of water from the fridge. "Drink this," she said, setting a bottle in front of Glenn first, and then another in front of Dusty. "All of it," she emphasized, passing the last to Rick. "Thanks, T-Dog," she added after he'd filled hers and Thao's plates with an admirable amount of eggs.

"'Mornin," Shane greeted pleasantly as he entered the room, nodding at Rick with an amused smile on his face. "Sleep alright?"

"Yeah," said Rick, watching his friend make his way to the coffee bar in puzzled amusement. "You?"

"Like a baby," Shane replied happily, pouring himself some coffee.

"You feel as bad as I do?" Rick asked him.

"Nope," Shane replied, taking a seat beside Dusty across from Glenn, looking decidedly smug. "Feel just fine."

"You're welcome," said Jenna amusedly, taking a swig of orange juice. Glenn groaned again beside her, and Jenna opened the water bottle and tapped his shoulder to get his attention. "Drink up, man," she repeated, handing him the bottle. "And eat. You'll feel better, trust me," she promised him in response to the highly disbelieving look he was giving her.

"Thank you, Miss Mouse," Shane retorted jokingly, and looked over at Rick, who was frowning in puzzlement. "Jenna got me with the water last night," he explained.

"Oh yeah?" Rick said, looking both amused and surprised.

Jenna shrugged, moving the eggs around on her plate with her fork. "I'm pretty good at taking care of drunk people," she explained, smirking.

"You couldn'ta taken care of _me_?" Dusty griped, groaning into her arm still, having yet to have lifted her head from the table.

Jenna laughed along with the others. "You were out before I could even get Thao to bed," she defended as Carol and Sophia joined the table. "Drink your water—that's all I can do for you now."

Dusty groaned exasperatedly again and hoisted her head up, propping it on her left fist with some effort. "And why didn't _you_ drink last night?" she asked accusingly, stabbing some egg onto her fork and taking a bite.

"Waking up and feeling good while the rest of you are hung-over is pretty amusing," Jenna replied simply, and T-Dog, Jacki, and Daryl laughed.

Dusty flipped her off, making Jenna and the others laugh again.

"Here, drink up, girl," said Shane, trying not to laugh, as he opened Dusty's bottle of water and handed it to her, patting her back lightly.

"Enjoy it now, Mouse," said Daryl, finishing off his glass of orange juice and setting the emptied glass down. "Tonight, I'm gettin you drunk if it's the last thing I do."

Jenna smirked, knowing that it wasn't a come-on, but a challenge. "Oh yeah?" she asked, and he nodded triumphantly, already sure of his success. "Bring it, man—I'd like to see you try," she taunted amusedly.

He raised his empty glass to her, accepting the challenge, and she responded in kind while the others laughed at their antics. Jenna had to admit, Daryl wasn't too hard to get along with once you were standing on level ground with him.

"Good morning," Jenner greeted them as he made his way to the coffee bar.

There was a round of "'Morning, Doc," from the table as a whole, and Jenna found herself smirking slightly, recalling what he'd told her last night—hardly anyone called him by his name.

"Doctor, I don't mean to slam you with questions first thing," said Dale from where he sat beside Andrea. The two of them had been quiet and subdued during the banter between the rest of them so far.

"But you will anyway," Jenner assumed, pouring coffee into a mug for himself.

"We didn't come here for the eggs," said Andrea bluntly, leveling her gaze directly on Jenner, daring him to deny her an answer.

Jenner remained silent for a beat, seeming to deliberate on how to respond—or whether he would respond at all, as he seemed very reluctant to do so—and then nodded eventually, conceding. Though, it was clear to Jenna that he would rather not. She wondered if he feared they would be very disappointed by his inability to come up with a cure.

Once everyone had finished with their breakfast, Jenner led them back into what he'd called the "big room" the night before, and they followed him in a group, looking around at the expansive room in awe just as they had before.

Jenner approached one of the computers and tapped at the keyboard. "Give me playback of TS-19," he commanded Vi, presumably.

"Playback of TS-19," Vi repeated, and the large, theatre-sized screen came to life.

An x-ray image of a human brain was displayed on the screen at four different vantage points, and Jenna watched, her eyes transfixed. Finally, she would understand the disease on a more anatomic level, rather than just relying on guesswork.

"Few people ever got the chance to see this," Jenner told them. "Very few."

"Is that a brain?" Carl asked Jenner curiously.

Jenner smiled at the boy. "An extraordinary one," he confirmed, and Carl grinned, looking back at the screen. Jenner followed his gaze and his expression sobered. "Not that it matters in the end…" he said quietly, almost as though he were speaking to himself. "Take us in for E.I.V.," Jenner commanded Vi.

"Enhanced internal view," Vi announced, obliging.

The images on the screen changed to show a more in-depth view of the inner workings of the brain. Neurons, electric charges…other things Jenna had learned once but couldn't recall now. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on top of one of the large computers in front of her after setting Thao down so he was seated on the desk beside it, and kept her eyes on the vast screen ahead.

"What are those lights?" Shane asked, sitting down in one of the rolling swivel chairs not far away from where Jenna stood beside Glenn.

"That's a person's life," Jenner replied. "Experiences, memories…it's everything," he explained. "Somewhere in all that organic wiring, in all those ripples of light…is you. The thing that makes you unique. Human."

"It don't make sense, ever?" Daryl asked, looking up at the screen.

"Those are synapses," Jenner explained more thoroughly. "Electric impulses in the brain that carry all the messages. They determine everything a person says, does, or thinks from the moment of birth, until the moment of death."

"Death?" Rick asked, stepping closer to where Jenner stood at the front. "That's what this is—a vigil?"

"Yes," said Jenner, gazing up at the screen with that faraway look in his eyes. "Or rather, the playback of the vigil," he said, turning to Rick.

"This person died?" Andrea asked quietly, moving forward as well. "Who?"

"Test subject nineteen," Jenner replied in a hollow voice. "Someone who was bitten, infected, and volunteered to have us…record the process."

Jenna was stunned at how dedicated this person, test subject nineteen, was to their work. She knew that if she'd been bitten, the last thing she would've been worried about was making sure the process was recorded for further study. But, then again, she wasn't a scientist.

"Vi, scan forward to the first event," Jenner commanded.

"Scanning to first event," Vi replied, ever the dutiful compilation of elaborate technology.

They all watched as dark lines moved into the brain from the brainstem, looking much like a tangle of thin roots. Jenna couldn't take her eyes from the screen; this was the infection, entering the brain.

"What is that?" Glenn asked, sounding disturbed.

"It invades the brain like meningitis," Jenner explained, gesturing up at the screen. "The adrenal glands hemorrhage, the brain goes into shut-down, then the major organs."

The brain on the screen was enveloped by darkness then, and Jenna looked down for a moment, understanding what had happened.

"Then death…" said Jenner quietly. "Everything you ever were, or ever will be…gone."

Jenna reached out and smoothed Thao's hair gently, being sure he was alright, and wondering how much of this he understood.

"Is that what happened to Jim?" Sophia asked her mother.

Carol nodded gently. "Yes," she said, and wrapped an arm around her daughter comfortingly, and there was a heavy solemnity in the atmosphere then. Jacki sighed and lowered her head regretfully, and Glenn hung his head heavily. Jenna patted his shoulder lightly and he gave her a small nod of thanks in response.

Andrea shook her head and looked away from the screen, stepping backward now.

"She lost somebody two days ago," Lori explained to Jenner at his look of inquiry at Andrea. "Her sister."

Jenner nodded and stepped toward Andrea. "I lost somebody too, I know how devastating it is," he said gently, and Jenna wondered if he was thinking of Candace. "I'm sorry."

Andrea looked up at him and nodded slightly before looking back down.

"Scan to the second event," Jenner said to Vi, moving back toward the front and facing the screen.

"Scanning to second event," Vi responded.

"The resurrection times vary wildly," Jenner told them as the screen proceeded with loading the information requested. "We have reports of it happening in as little as three minutes. The longest we heard of was eight hours. In the case of this patient it was two hours, one minute, seven seconds…" he said, his voice trailing off.

Jenna leaned forward, staring intently at the screen, as new lights appeared at the very base of the brain. These lights were a very dim red, however—starkly contrasting the bright electric blue from before—and they remained down at the base, never venturing to the outer regions of the brain. Jenna leaned back, straightening up, and gazed up at the screen in a sort of awed resignation. Just empty shells after all…

"It restarts the brain?" Lori asked in disbelief.

"The brainstem," Jenna specified, crossing her arms over her middle as she continued to gaze up at the image on the screen.

"What difference does that make?" Daryl asked, looking at her now.

"All the difference in the world," Jenna replied solemnly, meeting his gaze for a moment before looking back ahead.

"She's right," Jenner said, and Daryl looked back at him now. "Only the most basic, primal functions are there. Basically, it keeps them up and moving."

"But they're not alive," Rick presumed.

Jenner shrugged. "You tell me," he said, gesturing at the screen.

Rick shook his head. "It's nothin like before," he noted. "Most of that brain is dark."

"Dark, lifeless, dead…" Jenner agreed. "The frontal lobe, the neo-cortex, the human part—that doesn't come back. The _you_ part."

"Just a shell," Jenna mused. "A mobile corpse."

"Driven by mindless instinct," Jenner concurred.

Suddenly, a flash of light pierced through the brain at a downward angle, leaving a torn path through the brain matter in its wake, and gasps of surprise emitted from several places in the room almost simultaneously.

"What was that?" Carol asked, bewildered.

"He shot his patient in the head," Andrea said quietly. "Didn't you?" she asked Jenner.

"Vi, power down the main screen and work stations," Jenner said rather than answering, and Vi obliged, making the screen go black once more.

"You have no idea what it is, do you?" Andrea asked accusingly, and something about her tone had Jenna bristling slightly.

_Neither do you, and it's doubtful that anyone does, _Jenna thought, smoothing Thao's hair again. _Climb out of the man's throat, Andrea. _

"It could be microbial," said Jenner after a moment. "Viral, parasitic, fungal…"

"Or the wrath of God," Jacki suggested.

Jenna wasn't sure she liked the sound of _that_ very much. If this was some punishment carried out by whatever God existed, then they didn't have a hope in hell—she didn't, that was for certain. At the very least, a virus gave them some semblance of a fighting chance.

"There is that," Jenner agreed with Jacki wryly.

"Somebody must know _something_," Andrea maintained in that accusatory tone that Jenna wished she would ease up on. It wasn't his fault she'd lost her sister. "Somebody, _somewhere_."

"There are others, right?" Carol asked quietly. "Other facilities?"

"There may be some," Jenner replied, though his words carried absolutely no conviction. "People like me…"

"You don't know?" Rick demanded, his eyes widening with a trace of frenzied fright as he advanced toward Jenner. "How can you not know?"

Ugh, that accusatory tone. Jenna couldn't take it anymore.

"Did you honestly expect _one_ man to have all the answers you're looking for?" Jenna asked Rick, leveling her gaze to him as he met her eyes. "Climb back out of his throat, man."

Everyone was looking at Jenna with stunned expressions, but she paid them no mind. It wasn't this man's fault they'd come looking here for salvation and magical solutions to all their problems, and it wasn't this man's fault that he couldn't offer them those things. Harsh as it was, the sooner they realized that, the better off they'd be.

"Everything went down," Jenner answered eventually, regaining everyone's attention. "Communication, directives…all of it. I've been in the dark for almost a month," he said to Rick, and then turned his eyes toward Jenna, though he said nothing more.

Jenna couldn't guess why he was staring at her, but thought that maybe it had something to do with her choice to defend him. Was he acknowledging her action, perhaps? She couldn't tell. Or maybe it had something to do with the talk they'd had the night before. She knew he'd been alone for quite some time, better than the others did, anyway.

"So it's not just here," said Andrea. "There's nothing left _anywhere_. Nothing. That's what you're really saying, right?"

Jenna worked to remind herself that Andrea was still grieving, and thus was looking for any excuse she could find to take her anger out on anyone who gave that to her. But honestly, to be that harshly blunt in front of three kids was just cruel.

Jenner looked down, unwilling to give a response while Rick continued to stare at him searchingly, desperately.

"Jesus," Jacki sighed, leaning back against one of the computers, looking thoroughly defeated.

"Man, ummuh get shitfaced-drunk—_again_," said Daryl, running his hands through his messy hair, looking highly distressed by this bit of news.

Jenna didn't feel the blow as much as the others did, apparently. Perhaps it was merely because it was something she'd expected for quite some time now. This just confirmed the assumptions she'd made long ago; it was pointless to rely on help that showed no signs of coming—you were better off making things alright on your own.

"Doctor, I know this has been _taxing_ for you, and I hate to ask _one more_ question," Dale said, gaining his attention again. "That clock," he said, pointing at the same timer Jenna had seen the night before. It now read one hour, thirteen seconds. "It's been counting down since we got here… What happens when it gets to zero?"

That was a good question. Jenna had completely forgotten about the clock on the wall.

Jenner hesitated momentarily before responding. "The basement generators—they run out of fuel."

He looked away from them, and she narrowed her eyes, wondering what exactly he was hiding. If the basement generators ran out of fuel, what exactly did that mean?

"And then?" Rick asked Jenner as he began making his way toward the exit.

But Jenner did not respond, and left them in the expansive room to ponder over whatever it was he was keeping to himself.


	18. Smoke and Mirrors

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead, which really bums me out, but that's life. **

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and suggestive themes.

**Note: **This is another chapter that will toggle back and forth between viewpoints, just so you're prepared.

* * *

_"The truth has not so much set us free as it has ripped away a carefully constructed f__açade__, leaving us naked to begin again."_

_―Lisa Unger_

* * *

Smoke and Mirrors

_JPOV_

Jenna stood at the small table in the room she'd shared with Dusty and Thao the previous night, shoving the few things she'd taken out of her bag back inside, along with a few extra things she'd picked up from the facility. The books, the few water bottles in the fridge, a small towel she planned to use as a replacement for the filthy, blood-stained cloth she currently used to cover the blade of her machete. She doubted Jenner would miss these items terribly.

"What're you doin?" Dusty asked upon entering the room.

Jenna turned around, finding only Dusty, sans Thao. "Where's Thao?" she asked immediately. Dusty had taken him back to the rec. room for another game of table soccer.

"In the rec. room with Carol," Dusty answered, frowning at Jenna in puzzlement. "What're you doin? Why're you packin?"

"Because I don't plan on staying here much longer," Jenna replied, feeling she was stating the obvious.

"You're just _leavin_?" Dusty asked in bemusement.

"Yeah," said Jenna distractedly while she moved around the room, gathering Thao's things and stowing them into her bag as well.

"Jen, hold up," Dusty urged. "Just wait a minute."

Jenna laughed humorlessly. "We don't have many of those left to wait around for," she said wryly.

"Where are you goin?" Dusty demanded, the level on panic in her voice increasing slowly but surely. "Jenna!" she called as Jenna exited the room. "Where're you goin?"

"Getting Thao," Jenna replied, not taking the time to explain further. There wasn't much time left, and she wasn't going to waste it standing around talking when she could be using it to get her and Thao the hell out of there.

"Jenna, wait!" Dusty urged, following after her. "Wait—you can't just skip out on us like this."

"Then come with me," Jenna said simply, continuing her way down the hall.

"Jenna!" Dusty said pleadingly, raising her voice. "You can't leave!"

"What's goin on?" Rick asked, frowning in concern as he exited his own room, coming to investigate the disturbance, and Shane exited the room after him, looking equally concerned. This was exactly what Jenna didn't need at the moment—two cops intervening. "Jenna, what's up? What does she mean, you're leavin?" Rick questioned.

"Just that," said Jenna, only pausing on her trek because they were taking up most of the hallway, inadvertently blocking her path.

"Where're you goin?" Shane asked, frowning in question.

"Anywhere but here," Jenna said, somewhat exasperatedly. "Excuse me," she said, moving to get by them.

"Jenna, just hold up," Rick urged in a voice of reason.

She hardly heard him, for he'd reached out and grabbed her by the elbow to keep her from moving further, and hardwired instinct kicked in automatically. She spun her arm around, freeing it from his hold and took an automatic step away from him. In the back of her mind, Jenna was vaguely aware that just a few days ago, if someone had grabbed her that way without warning, she would have retaliated without hesitation.

Even so, Rick seemed shocked by her mild reaction, and put his hands up carefully, showing he meant her no harm. She eyed him cautiously, waiting to see if he made another move.

"Hey, hey," Shane said gently, pulling her attention from Rick to him. "Jenna, just hold up a second, alright?" he reasoned.

She shook her head. No, she was done wasting time.

She moved to get around them again, but Shane sidestepped her, putting his hands up, blocking her but not touching her. The fact that he was not restraining her physically was not lost in her, and she looked up at him then, meeting his dark eyes for the first time.

"Talk to us, girl, what's goin on?" he asked when he knew he had her full attention.

"I'm leaving," she said, more conviction in her voice then, wondering exactly how clear she needed to be. "Thao and I are leaving, and I'd advise the rest of you to do the same."

"Why?" Shane asked, urging her to continue. "Talk to me—what is it?"

"Why the hell not?" she asked, bewildered by the calm that was so evident in both of them. "The generators stop working in less than an hour, and I'd rather not hang around to find out what happens after that. I'll take my chances elsewhere."

"And Thao? What about him?" Rick asked. "You're gonna bring him back out there? You saw what it's like."

"Yeah, I know exactly what it's like out there, probably better than you do," Jenna responded. "It's a hell of a lot easier to make it through the city when there's only two of you. We've done it a hundred times before, we can do it again." Rick started to argue, but she didn't let him get a full word out. "We were doing just fine on our own, we'll do just fine on our own again if we have to. And I'd rather take my chances surviving out there than sitting on my ass and waiting for salvation that isn't going to come." She looked from Rick to Shane intently. "We're _leaving_."

Rick shook his head. "No, you're not," he contradicted in a tone of reason. "C'mon, you can't leave, Jenna."

She locked eyes with him, anger beginning to burn inside her. "Is that a fact?" she inquired—it was practically a challenge, the way she'd said it. Well, she might as well roll with that. "Who's gonna stop me? Are you gonna tie me down to a chair or something?"

"Hey, hey," Shane said calmly, putting his hands up again. "C'mon, now, it don't have to come to that, alright? Jenna, look at me."

She clenched her jaw, glaring at Rick as anger burned through her, and turned her gaze back to Shane, seeing a look of imploring concern in his eyes.

"What's got you so ready to bolt out those doors?" he asked, honestly wanting to understand, she could see. "What is it?"

"Whatever Jenner's keeping to himself," Jenna responded finally, spelling it all out for them. "Whatever happens when this building runs out of power, it's not gonna be _good_. Couldn't you see that? He's a man without a purpose—he _had_ one, but he doesn't anymore. He's…"

She broke off, looking away from them and shaking her head at her inability to explain her thoughts more clearly. She couldn't grasp them tightly enough to completely decipher them. They weren't tangible enough. She looked back up at Shane, forcing all of her willpower into her gaze as she locked eyes with him again.

"The power's gonna run out soon," she repeated, "and I don't think we should be here when that happens. I don't think we should be here at all."

Shane nodded slowly, keeping his eyes locked with hers. "Alright, I hear you," he said calmly. "But just give us a minute to check things out. Let us figure out what exactly the situation is before you go runnin outta here."

She shook her head in frustration, looking away from him again. If they weren't so much bigger than her, she would've just shoved them out of her way. If they were strangers, if she didn't know them, she'd fight them out of her way if need be. But she was powerless here. She couldn't force them to let her go, and that infuriated her to unbelievable levels.

"Jenna, please, girl," Shane implored gently. "Just give us a minute to figure this out, and then we'll make our move." She looked up at him again, trying to force down the blaze of anger within her. "Sound good?" he asked hopefully.

"Not that I have much of a choice, right?" she said in a quiet, angry tone.

"Of course you do," Shane contradicted immediately. "Of course you have a choice, Jenna. Hell, if you really wanna go, then no one's gonna stop you," he assured her, nothing but sincerity in his voice. He gave Rick a pointed glance, meeting his friend's eyes for a moment before turning back to her. "But I'm _askin_ you—I'm comin to you and I'm askin you—don't make that decision just yet. Give us a chance to figure this out… Please…"

"Please, Jenna," Dusty begged quietly behind her. "Please don't leave."

Jenna didn't move her eyes from Shane's, and it was the imploring sincerity she saw there that decided for her more than Dusty's pleas. He truly wouldn't stop her—or let anyone else stop her—if she chose to leave that instant. But he was asking her to trust him.

For some reason, she could not find the will to deny him that.

She took in a deep breath and let it out in a slow, steady stream, centering herself, cooling the flames within.

"Do you mind being quick about it?" she asked him.

He seemed to be about to smile with relief, and shook his head. "Not at all," he assured her. "We're gonna head down to the basement, see what the situation is, and then talk to Jenner. As soon as we know somethin, you'll know somethin."

She nodded, resigned, and then eyed both of them intently. "You mind moving so I can go and find my kid?" she asked pointedly.

Shane shook his head and moved to the side, granting her space to move between them, and Rick stepped to the side a moment later.

"Jus' give us a chance, alright?" Shane asked gently as she passed him. "Jus' a chance."

She nodded again. "You're wasting time," she pointed out as she made her way down the hall away from them, heading to the rec. room, wondering what the hell she'd just gotten herself into.

* * *

_SPOV_

"You know what that was about?" Rick asked Shane as they headed down the hallway in the opposite direction from where Jenna was headed, in search of T-Dog and Glenn.

"What d'you mean?" Shane asked distractedly.

"Jenna," said Rick. "She always react like that?"

Shane shrugged. "She don't much like bein grabbed, man," he said simply. "You seen it before—back at camp," he reminded Rick. "Honestly, I think you're lucky she didn't take a swing at you, man. She looked ready to."

"She didn't honestly think I was gonna hurt her?" Rick asked, perplexed.

Shane shook his head. "I dunno, man, I don't think it's that so much," he began, trying to explain something that he wasn't even sure he understood himself. "All I know is, she doesn't seem to react well when you take her by surprise like that. I think bein on her own just her an' Thao that long left a mark is all."

They rounded up Glenn and T-Dog, and the four of them made their way hurriedly down through the floors of the underground building, heading for the basement.

Shane wondered if the situation was as dire as Jenna seemed to think, and hoped that it wasn't. In all honesty, he was pretty skeptical about it too, but he hadn't thought to really worry until he saw how wired up Jenna was. He didn't know much about her, but he had noticed that, like Glenn, she was pretty smart, no matter how little she chose to speak. If she thought there was reason for worry, then there very well might be.

He hoped she was wrong. He hoped she was just a scared young woman who was panicking for the safety of the child she'd taken responsibility for.

Shane really didn't want to have to leave this place. It was the closest thing to civilization they were sure to find, and everyone was able to relax here. They were able to enjoy living again, which was such a precious luxury. The kids were free to just be kids, without having to worry about being torn apart by walkers if they wandered off too far. Even Daryl was surprisingly pleasant to be around, going as far to pal around with Glenn like they were old friends. And, admittedly, it had been a while since Shane had seen Rick and Lori so genuinely happy together—even before the world had gone to hell.

Most notably, though, was the change he'd seen in Jenna. Whereas she seldom spoke voluntarily before, and seemed to keep constant barriers between herself and the rest of them despite how friendly she was, that had started to reverse the more time they spent inside the CDC. Perhaps it had a lot to do with the fact that Thao could come to no harm within these walls, complimented by the added bonus of him being able to enjoy being a child in a way the outside world could never allow. But Shane had seen it—the radical change in her entire demeanor. Daryl even felt certain enough of this shift to joke with her, and she hadn't responded defensively, much to Shane's surprise. She didn't go out of her way to avoid coming into physical contact with any of them anymore, not even the men. He'd taken her by surprise the night before in the rec. room, but that was the only trace of her prior demeanor he'd seen since they'd settled here. And she'd relaxed not a moment later.

Would leaving the CDC undo all of that? Shane hoped not. He hoped it didn't have to come to that. But it already seemed to be progressing that way, for he'd seen a flash of the highly-defensive instinct kick in when Rick had made the mistake of grabbing her—however nonthreatening his action was. She'd responded on the most instinctive, automatic level by freeing herself from his grasp and putting distance between them. And it had been very clear in her eyes that for the briefest of moments, she'd considered retaliating violently.

"What do you think happens when the generators run out of fuel?" Glenn asked them as they hurried down the stairs in the darkened nether regions of the building. "I mean, that's gotta be bad, right?"

"I don't like the way Jenner clammed up," said Shane to Rick. "The way he just wondered off like that."

"What's wrong with him?" T-Dog wondered. "Seriously, man. Nuts, medicated, or what?"

They paused at the bottom of the stairway to examine a floor map on the wall, Shane holding up his flashlight so they could see it more clearly.

"In there," Rick told them, pointing down the short hallway to their right.

He pushed open a heavy door and they entered a large, dark room full of pipes and generators. It was all so expansive and there was so much underground power work here, it was difficult to determine where to even begin to look.

Glenn found a light switch and lit up the basement, and they all clicked off their flashlights as they looked around.

"Check that way," Rick said to Glenn and T-Dog, gesturing to the area on the left. He gestured for Shane to follow him, and the four of them split into pairs, going in opposite directions.

The deeper they ventured into the basement, the more the noise of chugging machinery could be distinguished from the general hum that permeated the place. Shane and Rick followed the sound, and came across a large metal barrel hooked up to a generator; the source of the noise. Rick jostled it a bit to test the weight, and Shane was highly disconcerted to see how easily it moved—it must have been nearly empty.

"It's empty," said Rick, shaking his head.

In the next moment, the place went dark, only to be illuminated once more, though much more dimly.

"Emergency lighting," announced the echoing automated voice.

"Man, what the hell is this?" Shane cursed, looking around at the darkened basement ceiling as though there might be a solution to be found there.

"Hey!" came Glenn's voice as he and T-Dog rushed to join them, their flashlights out again. "You guys kill the lights?" he asked.

"Naw, they just went off," Shane told him.

"Anything?" Rick asked the two of them hopefully.

"Yeah," said T-Dog exasperatedly, "a lotta dead generators and more _empty_ fuel drums than I can count."

"It can't be down to just that one," said Rick, shaking his head as he glared down at the practically empty fuel barrel in front of them.

Shane shook his head and stood up straight. "Face it, man, I think Jenna might have the right idea," he said to his friend.

"What's that?" T-Dog asked, frowning.

Shane looked from Rick, who seemed lost for words, to Glenn and T-Dog. "She's ready to clear out. Thinks it might be safer. And I think I'd have to agree with her."

It was clear none of them liked the sound of that very much, and Shane couldn't blame them. This was supposed to be their safe haven. _So much for that_, he thought wryly. Perhaps there was a good amount of truth in what Jenna had said before. They might be better off taking their chances elsewhere than sitting on their asses and waiting for salvation that wasn't going to come.


	19. Borrowed Time

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything in relation to The Walking Dead. This is purely for my own amusement. **

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and suggestive themes.

* * *

_"Clocks slay time...time is dead as long as it is being clicked off by little wheels; only when the clock stops does time come to life."_

_—William Faulkner_

* * *

Borrowed Time

Jenna looked up at the vent in the ceiling when the sound of flowing air ceased, and suppressed the urge to swear in frustration. She should have just left with Thao when she had the chance. If the others wanted to stay behind, then that was their decision, and she couldn't be held responsible for their poor choices. She'd warned Shane and Rick—the two authority figures. She'd done her part.

But she knew that if she'd left and something horrible had happened to them, the guilt would nearly eat her alive. True, she had blood on her hands, but she would _not_ be responsible for the demise of this group.

Thao sat on the couch in their room, thoroughly engrossed in the strange new toy he'd found in the rec. room. From what Jenna could tell, it was a three-dimensional maze of sorts, encapsulated in a small, softball-sized plastic sphere. He rotated the sphere around in both hands, concentrating hard on the little silver ball, trying to move in through the maze. Jenna was just grateful that it was keeping him good and distracted from the mounting tension in the atmosphere.

Dusty exchanged a wary glance with Jenna, having noticed the lack of air circulation as well, and began packing her own things finally.

The sound of slightly alarmed voices in the hallway gained Jenna's attention, and she rose to see what was going on now. Were they finally going to leave? She hoped so.

She opened the door to see the others poking their heads out of their own doors all around the hallway as Jenner made his way past them without giving them a second glance, even as they fired questions at him.

"Hey, what's goin on?" Daryl asked, a bottle of Tequila in his hand.

"Why is the air off in our room?" Lori asked him nearly in the same moment.

"Energy use is being prioritized," said Jenner simply as he passed them, taking the bottle from Daryl's hand as he went.

"Air isn't a priority?" Dale asked, perplexed. "Lights?"

Jenner shook his head, taking a swig of Tequila from the bottle as he continued on his way. "It's not up to me," he told them in that eerily calm voice. "Zone five is shutting itself down."

"Ay," said Daryl as he and the others followed after Jenner. "Ay, what the hell's that mean?" he demanded.

Jenna took Thao's hand and moved to follow them, wanting to speak to Jenner herself, suspecting that Shane and Rick hadn't had a chance to do it. She and Dusty rushed to catch up with the others as they trailed Jenner into the big room once more.

"Hey, man, I'm talkin to you," said Daryl, coming up to Jenner's side as they walked. "How can a _building_ do anything?"

"You'd be surprised," replied Jenner wryly.

From the door that led down to the basement, Rick, Shane, T-Dog, and Glenn ran into the big room then, looking highly alarmed.

"Rick?" Lori called to him frantically.

Rick held a hand up to her to calm her, and moved to catch up to Jenner as he neared the front of the room where the work stations were located. "Jenner, what's goin on?" he asked intently in a voice of determined calm.

"The system is dropping all the nonessential uses of power," Jenner explained. "It's designed to keep the computers running to the last possible second. Since it's dark, we must've reached the half-hour mark." He nodded at the red numbers blaring from the timer on the wall. "Right on schedule," he noted.

The timer told Jenna they had thirty-one minutes and forty-two seconds left.

Jenner stopped beside one of the computers and everyone else stopped behind him, staring at his turned back, waiting for him to explain further. Jenna noticed now that he'd changed into more formal attire, which she found to be odd. He wore a pair of slacks with a clean button-down shirt and tie, with his white lab coat.

She moved forward, indicating for Thao to stay with Dusty, and wove in between the others until she was standing at Jenner's left side.

"Edwin?" she asked quietly, wondering exactly how _together_ he was at the moment.

He turned around to gaze back at her, and his eyes delved into hers with an intensity she did not understand. It was the same strange look he'd given her the night before, only amplified significantly. She frowned, wondering if he'd been drinking before, and took the bottle from his hand carefully, her eyes never leaving his.

"It was the French," he said suddenly to her as she handed the bottle back to Daryl, who stood just behind her.

"The French?" Jenna questioned, hoping he would elaborate.

Jenner nodded. "They were the last ones to hold out, as far as I know anyway," he explained. "While our people were bolting out the doors and committing suicide in the hallways, they stayed in the labs until the end."

"Till the end?" Rick questioned, confusion marking his face.

Jenner turned his eyes from Jenna and looked over at Rick. "They thought they were close to a solution."

"What happened?" Jacki asked him.

"The same thing that's happening here," Jenner replied, turning to face them as a whole. "No power grid. Ran out of juice," he said with a helpless shrug. Then he laughed under his breath, and Jenna narrowed her eyes, leaning back to study him a bit more closely, trying to understand him. "The world runs on _fossil fuel_," he said, his tone both amused and disbelieving, "I mean, how stupid is that?"

With that, he turned and made his way deeper into the work stations.

Shane glowered at the man, murder in his eyes, and followed after him threateningly. "Lemmie tell you somethin—"

"The hell with this, Shane, I don't even care," said Rick, raising his voice and grabbing Shane by the arm to stop him. He turned back to face the others. "Lori, grab our things. Everybody, get your stuff, we're gettin outta here _now_!"

Well, it was about damn time as far as Jenna was concerned. The others nodded and rushed off to do as they were instructed, and Jenna decided to hang back a bit to talk to Jenner, seeing as she already had hers and Thao's things put together. He was acting so bizarre, and something about it gave her a very bad feeling.

Suddenly, a loud alarm began blaring through the room, startling everyone.

"What's that?" Shane demanded, looking around at the ceiling along with the others.

On the big screen, however, a copy of the countdown was displayed in green. Jenna read the caption at the top of the numbers at the same time Vi's automated voice announced the very same message. _FACILITY-WIDE DECONTAMINATION PROTOCOL ACTIVE. _

"Thirty minutes to decontamination," announced Vi over the blaring of the alarm.

Jenna's heart plummeted to the pit of her stomach in one quick, violent plunge as she stared up at the screen with widened eyes. "Oh, _fuck_…" she whispered.

She should have just left when she had the chance.

Things were starting to slowly fall into place, tiny, fragmented piece by piece, and Jenna did not like the way those fragmented pieces seemed to be forming. Something was very, _very_ wrong. The seconds on the clock counted down rapidly, and the phrase "borrowed time" passed through Jenna's mind in an indistinct, hazy whisper.

"You heard Rick," Shane yelled to the others, who had all frozen in place out of shock and fear. "Get your things and let's go! Now!"

They all nodded again, their eyes wide with fright, and began rushing toward the door in a surge. Talking to Jenner was no longer a priority, and Jenna hopped over the railing of the raised platform of the work station, rushing to go and get Thao so they could leave.

Suddenly, however, the entrance was sealed by a large metal wall that slid up from the ground. It had no handle, and no hinges. It was not designed to open—it was designed to contain everything within.

She spun back around and looked at Jenner, seeing him tapping away at one of the keyboards.

"Did you just lock us in?" Glenn asked Jenner in a frightened gasp.

Jenna rushed back up to the work stations and moved to approach Jenner, who'd slumped down into a seat at the computer, seeming to be gazing down at something he held in his hands. When she neared, she saw that it was a picture of a redheaded woman—and then she halted in her tracks. It was almost like looking at a picture of what Jenna's own mother might have looked like under different circumstances; red hair, hazel eyes, soft face. It must have been a picture of Candace, Jenna understood.

"He just locked us in!" Glenn yelled to the rest of them, nothing but panic in his voice.

Everyone rushed away from the sealed entrance again, gathering in a panicked group, looking around for any sign of another escape route.

"Mom!" Carl cried in fright somewhere behind Jenna.

"You son of a bitch!" Daryl spat in fury from her right. "You son of a bitch, you locked us in here!" he bellowed, charging at Jenner with malicious intent permeating his demeanor entirely.

"Shane!" Rick called.

"Hey!" Shane yelled as he rushed toward Daryl, blocking him just before he could reach Jenner. "No, don't do it!" he commanded, pulling a violently struggling Daryl away from the other man, who hadn't reacted to the threatening advance.

Vaguely, Jenna recalled the indistinct sensation of feeling trapped when they'd first entered the CDC the night before, and the doors had closed, separating them from the outside world. That was nothing compared to the way she felt now. That formless, barely tangible fear had been magnified to unbelievable proportions as she stared from the metal wall that had just barricaded them in, toward Jenner, who sat calmly in his seat.

They were trapped. Completely and utterly trapped within this high-tech sarcophagus. The fear was almost suffocating, and Jenna struggled desperately not to panic. They were running out of time, and there was no way out.

Somewhere from the recesses of her memory, dragged out from the wild, panicked state of her mind, no doubt, came the animated image of her favorite childhood movie; _Aladdin_. Jasmine had been trapped in the giant hourglass, the sands pouring over her until she was completely buried beneath it. Oddly enough, Jenna thought she might know just how that would feel—trapped within the hourglass, the sands of time spilling down on her until she'd been submerged and suffocated.

Hell no.

She wasn't going to wait for Prince Charming—or a street rat—to rescue her. She was going to bust through the glass herself if it was the last thing she ever did. Thao was _not_ going to be trapped in here to be turned into ash.

"Open that door, now," Jenna said to Jenner, moving toward him again now that Daryl had been cleared away.

He looked up at her, defeat in his eyes. "There's no point," he said regretfully. "Everything topside has been locked down. The exits are sealed."

"Well open the damn things!" Dale demanded as the others gathered around.

"That's not something I control—the computers do," said Jenner.

"You can't override it?" Jenna asked. He shook his head and she ran both hands through her hair, trying desperately not to panic.

"I told you," Jenner said to her, his voice carrying a hint of an imploring note in it. "Once those doors closed they would not open again—you heard me say that," he insisted, as though trying to force her to understand.

"You couldn't have told us exactly what that meant?" Jenna demanded.

Jenner seemed to swallow a lump in his throat as he gazed up at her, his eyes pleading. "It's better this way," he said in a voice of forced calm.

"What is?" said Rick angrily. His eyes darted up toward the timer and then back at Jenner. "What happens in twenty-eight minutes?"

Jenner looked over at Jenna again, deep solemnity in his eyes, and then looked away from both of them, not willing to give them an answer… Not willing to give _her_ an answer, she slowly realized, though she didn't fully understand why. She resembled Candace, she understood. How much exactly did Candace mean to Jenner? Who was she to him?

"What happens?" Rick yelled furiously, striding forward threateningly.

"Do you know what this place is?" Jenner demanded, raising his voice and getting to his feet as he leveled his gaze at Rick. "We protected the public from _very nasty stuff_! Stuff you don't want getting out! Ever!"

"Stuff you can use for biological warfare," Jenna said in an edgy voice, leveling her gaze at Jenner. She was beginning to understand the gravity of the situation.

"Weaponized smallpox," he said, his voice a little less harsh than it had been moments before. "Ebola strains that could wipe out half the country."

Everyone stared at Jenner as though he'd lost his mind—admittedly, Jenna couldn't really blame them—and waited with baited breath for him to say more. To give them more answers. Jenner seemed to have other ideas, for he took in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and reclaimed his seat with a heavy motion, as though he was growing weary of standing upright.

Daryl began to move toward him, apparently not sitting well with being denied more answers, and Jenna moved her hand out, her palm pressing into his middle and stopping him—more from the shock of her touch than from the force of her hold.

"What is going to happen?" she asked Jenner in as calm of a voice as she could manage.

Jenner let out a heavy sigh, looking highly reluctant to give her an answer, but the resigned expression on his face told her she was going to receive one anyway.

"In the event of a catastrophic power-failure—a terrorist attack, for example—H.I.T.s are deployed to prevent any organisms from getting out," he told her solemnly.

"Say it so we can understand," Jenna urged, though she knew the answer was only going to induce dread. Whatever it was, it was going to be bad. Aside from all that she didn't know, she knew that much at the very least.

He looked back at her, and his eyes told her that he would rather do anything than comply to her demand.

Seemingly against his better judgment, he said, "Vi, define H.I.T.s."

"H.I.T.s," echoed the automated voice, "High Impulse Thermonuclear explosives consist of two stage aerosol ignition that produces a wave of significantly greater power and duration than any other known explosive except nuclear. The vacuum pressure effect ignites the oxygen between five thousand and six thousand degrees and is useful when the greatest loss of life and damage to structures is desired."

Jenna's entire core seemed to have suddenly been deluged by ice water, and she stared back at Jenner pleadingly, fruitlessly willing him to tell her something different. She shook her head, her eyes wide, never looking away from him.

"No," she whispered, and it was a plea.

There was nothing but raw remorse in his eyes as he looked back at her. "It sets the air on fire," he confirmed in a hollow voice. "No pain…an end to sorrow, grief, regret…everything."

Everyone backed away from Jenner and moved back toward the sealed exit, as though hopeful that it would just somehow decide to open on its own. Daryl seemed to have other ideas when he threw the bottle of whisky at the metal surface in fury.

"Open that damn door!" he roared to Jenner.

"Get outta the way!" Shane called, pulling an ax from one of his bags and running up the ramp to the exit where Daryl stood.

Thao rushed up to the raised platform, colliding with Jenna's legs and looking up at her in fright. She smoothed his hair and wished she had soothing words to offer him, but she had none. And she'd vowed from the beginning to never lie to him.

She looked back at Jenner, who hadn't taken his gaze from her, apparently. He looked as remorseful as ever, and now Jenna understood why. All the things she'd missed, all she'd overlooked from the beginning—they were all so clear now.

"Let us out," she said imploringly, locking eyes with him again.

He shook his head. "I can't," he said quietly.

"You _can_," she insisted, and hugged Thao closer to her when he started at the sound of Shane and Daryl swinging away at the metal wall with the axes. She looked over at them, watching them swing with all their might, fruitless though she knew it was. They wouldn't be able to make a dent, even if they had all the time in the world.

"Those doors are designed to withstand a rocket-launcher," Jenner told them hollowly.

Daryl spun around, malicious intent in his eyes again, and ran forward, ax in hand. "Well your head ain't!"

"Whoa! Stop!" Rick commanded, running to stop him with T-Dog.

Jenner shook his head as he watched them work to hold Daryl back. "You should have left well-enough alone, it would've been so much easier…"

"Easier for who?" Lori demanded bewilderedly from where she and Carol sat on the floor, hugging their sobbing children.

"All of you," Jenner insisted in a gentle voice, though his eyes flicked over to Jenna once more before turning to the rest of the women who were mostly huddled together.

Jenna motioned for Thao to go and sit beside Jacki, and the woman wrapped her arms around him gently, smoothing his black hair affectionately. She looked much more calm than the rest, though there were tears spilling silently from her eyes.

"You know what's out there," Jenner told them as Shane and the other men began to make their way back toward the rest of them. "A short brutal life and an agonizing death." He turned to Andrea, who had remained dead-silent the whole while, looking to have shut down. "Your sister, what was her name?"

"Amy," said Andrea quietly.

"Amy," mirrored Jenner. "You know what this does," he said to Andrea. "You've seen it." He turned his gaze to Jenna once more. "Your boyfriend—what was his name?"

"Alex," Jenna answered in a voice of forced calm.

He nodded solemnly, and she shook her head, telling him he was wrong, telling him she did not agree with what he was trying to explain to her. He looked up at Rick, who was approaching slowly, silently.

"Is that really what you want for your wife and son?" he asked Rick.

"I don't want _this_," Rick replied intently.

"You _do_ want this," Jenner argued. "Last night, you said you knew it was just a matter of time before everybody you loved was dead."

Silence fell over all of them as the others peered at Rick in apparent disbelief. Lori looked up at him, horrified, and Shane was glaring at him almost hatefully. Jenna was very nearly losing her patience with this whole situation. Whatever Rick said last night was a matter of indifference to her, as far as she was concerned.

"What, you really said that?" Shane asked him in angry disgust. "After all your big talk?"

"I had to keep hope alive, didn't I?" Rick asked Lori almost accusingly.

"There is no hope—there never _was_," said Jenner to Rick.

Rick shook his head. "There's hope, there's always hope," he declared. "Maybe not here, maybe not with you, but _somewhere_—"

"What part of everything is gone don't you understand?" Andrea asked bitterly.

"Listen to your friend—she gets it," said Jenner, looking back at Jenna for a moment before turning his gaze back to Rick. "This is what takes us down. This is…our extinction of end," he told them calmly, and sat back down in his seat.

Carol and Lori began to sob, hugging their children against them even tighter.

"This isn't right," Carol cried to Jenner. "You can't just keep us here."

Jenner leaned forward in his seat, looking at her with nothing but compassion. "One _tiny_ moment…a millisecond—no pain."

"My daughter doesn't deserve to die like this," Carol wept hysterically.

Jenna heard Shane spit out a curse under his breath and turned to see him advancing on Jenner threateningly, murder in his eyes. When the sound of him pumping a shell into his shotgun emitted through the room, Jenna's heart sped up into high-gear, and she recognized this situation. It was unlike anything she'd experienced before, but at its core, it was the same as many different experiences she'd had. This was it; life or death, do or die. Everything was falling apart around her, the ground was quaking and crumbling beneath her feet. And so she did what she had to do to survive. She reached into the darkest regions of her mind with her blood-stained hands, and flipped a switch.

And suddenly, everything was glass clear. There was no panic, there was no anger or accusation. There was just calculation and willpower—the urge to survive. With everything else inside her switched off, she had all she needed to do just that. Survive.

Not a moment had passed, and she rushed toward Jenner, standing in front of him to block any shots Shane intended to take.

"Shane, no!" Rick yelled forcefully.

"Get outta the way, Rick!" Shane roared back, shoving past his friend. He paused briefly, lowering the Mossberg when he saw Jenna blocking his line of fire. "Jenna, move!" he urged.

"If you kill him, you kill the rest of us," Jenna shot back, refusing to stand down. "Back off."

After watching Shane intently, willing him to comply, he lowered his shotgun all the way, glaring between her and Jenner in his frustration. She held his gaze for a prolonged moment, urging him not to advance again, and only when she was sure he wouldn't did she turn back around to face Jenner, who was looking up at her with those sad, defeated eyes.

"You're lying," she said, sure of her claim.

He frowned up at her. "What?"

"You didn't believe you had any reason to give up," she clarified, "not until now. Something kept you going."

Jenner's eyes cast downward for a moment. "I made a promise…to her…" he said, his eyes flicking toward the big screen, and Jenna understood.

"Candace," she said. "Test subject nineteen was Candace…"

His eyes rose to hers again, delving into them with an intensity that Jenna understood completely now. "My wife," he explained.

She nodded, understanding, and then knelt down in front of him, taking him by surprise as he gazed back down at her, eyes locked together once more.

"I don't give a damn what Rick said to you last night," she told him, waving a hand in Rick's general direction. "Whatever he said means nothing to me. I don't know about the rest of them," she continued, jerking a thumb at the group behind her, "but I'm not waiting around for someone to save my ass—I never was. I'm not holding out for the hope of _salvation_. But that does not mean that I've given up. I'm gonna make things okay on my own, and I'm gonna do that for as long as I possibly can, because I haven't given up yet, and you can't make me give up. Candace never gave up—not even in the final moments of her life did she give up, and you didn't make her. You can't make me give up, Edwin. You don't get to decide that for me, you don't get to force my hand like that. I haven't given up."

His eyes were rimmed with moisture as he peered down at her, and she looked up at him beseechingly, taking hold of his hand in both of hers.

"Don't make me give up, Edwin…open the door," she said in a calm yet intent voice.

He closed his eyes, tears falling from them silently, and stood up. Jenna followed suit and watched as he turned around, swiping his ID over a scanner attached to the keyboard and punching in some numbers.

He looked back up at her. "I told you, topside's locked down, I can't open those," he said, and punched in one last key.

The metal wall slid back down and everyone jumped up.

"C'mon, let's go!" Daryl called to all of them, waving them over to join him as he neared the exit, ax still in his hand.

The switch flipped back into place, bringing her back to her former self.

Jenner continued to gaze into Jenna's eyes, tears spilling from his, and her heart lurched for this defeated man. She knew there would be nothing she could do to persuade him to leave with them. He wanted to die. He wanted to join his wife. That was why he'd dressed up.

She leaned forward on the balls of her feet and kissed his cheek lightly. "Thank you, Edwin," she whispered to him.

He gave her a ghost of a smile, and she smiled back before turning and scooping up Thao, rushing with Dusty to the exit. If it wasn't for Jacki's voice, she wouldn't have stopped.

"No, I'm stayin!" she said to T-Dog as he tried to pull her toward the exit. "I'm stayin, sweetie…"

"That's insane!" T-Dog declared, panicking.

Jenna let go of Thao and guided him toward Glenn, who'd paused nearby as the others did as well. Glenn took hold of the child's hand, and Jenna moved forward with Dusty, heading for Jacki and T-Dog.

"Jacki, come on," Jenna implored. "_Please_."

"_Please_, Jacki—don't do this," begged Dusty desperately. "T's right, this is insane!"

"It's completely sane," Jacki told them, tears pouring from her calm yet determined face. "For the first time in a long time. I'm not endin up like Jim and Amy," she explained. "There's no time to argue—and no point, not if you wanna get out. Get _out_," she urged them, pushing against T-Dog's chest as he stared back at her with wide eyes.

Jenna nodded, understanding that this was truly what Jacki wanted—this was no rash decision made from fear. And so she moved forward and wrapped her arms around the woman she'd come to love, kissing her on the cheek.

"Bye, honey," Jacki whispered through her tears, kissing Jenna's cheek in return. "Go on, now."

She kissed Dusty on the cheek, and Jenna had to pull her away, seeing as she wasn't inclined to leave her friend behind.

"C'mon, Dog," urged Shane, moving forward to do the same for T-Dog as Jacki placed both palms on his face and pressed her lips to his forehead. "C'mon, let's go, let's go!"

Jenna forced herself not to look back after she'd turned away that time, no matter what—she'd caught a glimpse of the timer and saw that there were now only four minutes left. They ran as a group through the hall, each of them heading to their rooms to grab their things. Once she'd grabbed her bag and Dusty had done the same, they sped back out of the room and began sprinting for the topmost floor. Thao's much smaller legs had trouble keeping pace with them, and Jenna scooped him up again, throwing him over her shoulder in a fireman's carry without breaking stride.

"Get those doors open!" Glenn yelled as he streaked passed Jenna when they reached the entryway on the top floor.

When it was clear that the doors were not going to open, they instead turned their efforts to the expansive floor-to-ceiling windows that stretched along the front of the room. Daryl swung the ax at the glass, but to no avail. Shane rushed up, dropped his bag, and pumped his shotgun.

"Get down, y'all—_now_!" he yelled, and everyone moved away from the windows immediately before ducking down.

Shane blasted two rounds at the glass, but the bullets had no effect.

"The glass won't break?" cried Sophia and panic from where she crouched on the floor with her mother.

"I have somethin that might help," said Carol, getting shakily to her feet and digging through her purse nervously as she approached Rick.

"Carol, I don't think a nail-file's gonna do it," said Shane.

"Your first morning at camp," said Carol to Rick, her arm deep inside her purse still, "when I was washing your clothes, I found this," she said, bringing out a small grenade, cradling it carefully in her palm as she held it out to him.

"Lookout!" Shane yelled to them all, urging them to duck for cover immediately.

Jenna pulled Thao down in the space behind the curve of the reception desk while Daryl dove with her, throwing an arm over her shoulders and pushing her down onto the ground beside him hurriedly.

"_Sssshhhit!_" Rick yelled, and Jenna heard him rushing toward the rest of them.

A moment later, the ground rocked as the grenade went off, and the sound of shattering glass told Jenna he had successfully freed them from the building.

She was on her feet a moment later, pulling Thao up and running beside Daryl as they sped out through the window. Of course, the sound of the explosion had attracted the walkers in the vicinity, and a line of them blocked their path to the vehicles.

Cursing herself for packing her gun and machete in her bag, Jenna pushed Thao toward Dusty and Glenn, who were right behind her.

"Go, baby—_go_!" she urged, and Dusty caught him readily.

"Jenna?" she cried, bewildered.

Jenna ignored her and dashed over to one of the many fallen soldiers that littered the pavement, finding one that was armed and pulling the M4A1 out of their hand. She loaded a shell into the chamber and opened fire at the walkers directly in front of her, glad that it was on rapid fire. The magazine emptied after only three rounds, however, and she reached down, pulling a new one from the soldier's belt. She reloaded the rifle and opened fire again, working to clear the way for the rest.

Both Shane and Rick had opened fire as well, clearing the way for all of them.

"C'mon, Mouse, let's go!" yelled Daryl as he sped toward her, grabbing her arm and pulling her with him as he sped to the Ford truck that held Merle's motorcycle.

She watched intently as Dusty carried Thao into the RV with her and Glenn, and only when she knew he was safely inside did she allow Daryl to shove her into the carriage of the truck. He hopped around to the other side in a flash and slid into the driver's seat, pulling the door closed behind him in the same motion.

She looked back to see Dale and Andrea running toward the cars as Daryl dropped the ax at the floor of the truck between them. "Oh, shit," she whispered.

They were so far from the cars, and Jenna knew there had to be only seconds before the CDC exploded. They had a very good chance at being caught by shrapnel.

"Dale, get down!" Lori yelled to them from the window of the RV while someone else honked the horn furiously.

"Get down!" Daryl urged, reaching over and shoving Jenna forward so that they were both ducking as low as the carriage of the truck would allow.

Seconds later, the very surface of the earth seemed to rock and quake more violently than Jenna would have imagined, and they were engulfed by the loudest bout of continuous noise that she had ever experienced before in her life. It seemed to go on forever, and the quaking of the earth rode along with the blast, amplifying the effect.

When the rumbling stopped and the noise died down, they sat up again slowly, watching as the CDC crumbled and caved in on itself, flames spilling out of it from nearly all directions.

Jenna's heart sank—Jacki was gone.

"Come on!" Glenn's voice yelled from the RV, and Jenna could see him hanging out from the doorway, waving Dale and Andrea toward him. "Come on—get in!"

Dale pulled Andrea up from the ground and they rushed into the RV.

Jenna leaned her head and shoulders out of the passenger-side window of the truck. "Glenn!" she yelled, gaining his attention. "Thao?" she asked desperately.

"He's fine!" Glenn yelled back. "He's fine—he's okay!"

She nodded and slid back into the passenger seat, letting out a breath of relief. Daryl started the truck, and the old engine roared to life. He followed the convoy, led by the RV down the road, away from the burning remnants of the CDC.

"Where'd you learn to shoot like that, G.I. Jane?" Daryl asked eventually.

Jenna looked down at the assault rifle in her lap and moved it so that it rested against her knee between her legs on the floor of the car.

"Military boyfriend," she said simply, looking out the window.

Daryl nodded, contemplating that, and choosing not to comment, thankfully. Instead he asked, "How'd Jenner know that? And how'd you know about his wife—Candace?"

"I talked to him last night," she replied, running a hand through her hair haphazardly, letting the wind cool her down and relax her. "Went to the dining room for some tea, and he was in there. We talked for a while."

"Thank God for that," he mumbled as he drove along, following the convoy. "If it hadn't been for you, we woulda never made it outta there, Mouse."

She had no words to respond to that with—she was _not_ a hero—so she remained silent, hanging her arm out of the open window lazily. She felt thoroughly drained, physically and mentally. And Jacki was gone… That was what her mind kept going back to. Jacki was gone. Dead.

"_Tea?_" Daryl asked after a moment, sounding amused, and she looked back at him. "Outta everythin there, you went for _tea_?"

She let out a breath of laughter. "So much for getting me drunk tonight, huh?"

He laughed with her, and she leaned back in her seat, trying to calm her erratic heart. This day had been far too chaotic. But, with as bad as things had just been, she didn't see how they could possibly get any worse.

And then some images flashed through her memory, white hot, and she closed her eyes, trying to shut them out.

Things could always get worse. Things could always get much, much worse.

* * *

**Note:**

There is a bit of imagery in this chapter, and I apologize if it's hard to follow, but most of it is meant to be vague for the time being. It'll be elaborated on as the story progresses, I assure you.


	20. The Weak Get Taken

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything in relation to The Walking Dead. Scout's honor. **

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and suggestive themes.

* * *

**Part Two**

**Preface**

In this new apocalyptic world, Jenna has found that even in the depths of catastrophe and desperation, there are still some flickers of light in the darkness, if only you're willing to seek them out. She's decided for Thao's sake to remain with the Atlanta survivors as long as that's where her boy is safest. Drawn to the comfort of human interaction that she'd nearly forgotten, Jenna is slowly starting to find her place among this group, as more than just a bystander. But her past is catching up to her in ways she never would have expected, and the demons of her memories are slowly drawing nearer. If they get their claws into her, it will all be over for her. Will she be able to keep herself, and those close to her, from falling victim to the darkness? Most importantly, will she be able to keep Thao safe, even with the blood on her hands? She'll be damned if she doesn't try, even if she has to fight tooth-and-nail to keep him safe.

* * *

_"It is the nature of mortals to kick a fallen man."_

_—Aeschylus_

* * *

The Weak Get Taken 

Jenna was not keeping track of time—whether they'd been driving for minutes or hours, she had no idea—while Daryl followed the RV through the streets. She'd just closed her eyes while she sat back in the passenger seat of his truck, trying to keep the regret from overwhelming her. Jacki was gone. She'd let her go. She'd just accepted that loving woman's decision without bothering to put up an actual fight. But it was her choice, wasn't it? She, like Jim, had chosen her fate, and the rest of them had no right to interfere—right?

"_Fuck!_"

Jenna's eyes snapped open immediately at the sound of Daryl's voice, and the first thing she saw was the RV far ahead of them on the residential street they were travelling down—when had they gotten so far away?

"Hey! _Hey!_" he hollered, pounding on the horn like a madman, and it was only then that she realized he was trying to get the attention of those at the front of the caravan.

What the fuck was wrong?

She looked all around, knowing with all the noise Daryl was making walkers were sure to be attracted by it. He knew that, so he wouldn't be making all this noise for no damn reason. Not seeing anything in front or at their sides, she turned in her seat to look behind them—and her heart jumped into her throat.

Where she should've been able to see Shane's Jeep Wrangler behind them, the view was distorted by a horde of walkers. He was surrounded. _How in the fuck?_ They were spilling out onto the street from all sides, coming out from behind houses, stumbling out of abandoned cars, creeping out into the open from alleyways and all manner of places. There were so many of them, and more kept on coming. The Jeep was completely surrounded, and the mob of the dead were drawing steadily closer from all directions, leaving no room for Shane to escape.

Suddenly, the truck swerved around, sideswiping a forgotten Sentra, and Daryl was speeding back toward the horde.

"Shoot, G.I. Jane!" he yelled as they drew closer to the army of walkers.

Not needing to be told twice, Jenna grabbed the M4A1 and hopped up so that she was seated on the door through the open window, securing herself with her legs the best that she could. She opened fire at the same time she heard blasts from Shane's Mossberg. When a few walkers fell, he was finally partially visible through the horde, and it was at least apparent that he was out of his vehicle. They were so close to him though, and she couldn't risk shooting those near him, for fear of hitting him with a bullet by mistake.

"Fuck!" she spat under her breath, and made a call. Diving right in, as Shane would have said.

She maneuvered herself quickly and hopped out of the truck while it moved down the asphalt, absorbing the fall by rolling to a stop rather than planting her feet onto the ground.

"Jenna!" Daryl yelled as she met the pavement.

She was up and moving again in the next moment, bringing herself closer to the mob before stopping in her tracks, bracing herself, and opening fire again. Now that it wasn't so dangerous to aim and fire where she wanted, she and Shane were able to clear the way in front of him. Unfortunately, she'd attracted the attention of the walkers furthest from Shane's Jeep, and when they got too close to ignore, she had to spin around and shoot them down, leaving Shane to his own devices, hoping to God that he made it through that horde unscathed, as unlikely as it was.

_I'm so sorry,_ she thought bitterly, shooting down the corpses that continued to advance on her. Her intention had been to help him, and here she was, saving her own fucking skin instead.

All too soon, her magazine emptied, and she had no means to replace it. Hell, she didn't even have her machete on her, and she was stuck. Without the protection of her leather jacket, she could not allow them to get within grasping range, but she was slowly finding herself surrounded.

Adrenaline coursing through her so wildly that it was almost crippling, Jenna wove around the walkers that had gotten nearest, her eyes scanning around constantly for some means of escape. There were none to be found, however. Everywhere she turned, a handful of walkers could be found. There was space to move in between them, but she had nowhere to run. The RV was too far up ahead, Daryl's truck was nowhere near her, and Shane's Jeep had ceased to be an option long before now.

She wove around another walker, just barely avoiding its reach, and spun around, slamming the stock of the assault rifle into the back of another's head before it could get its hands on her. She'd really fucked up this time—she was trapped, and for all she knew, Shane was gone.

A blast erupted before her, and the head of the walker directly in front of her exploded in a shower of putrid blood and rotted brain matter. Some of the spray misted onto her shirt, and as the body collapsed onto the pavement in a heap, another figure was standing a short distance away in her view.

A moment later, Shane was sprinting toward her, Mossberg in hand and duffle bag thrown over his shoulder. _He's alive!_

"C'mon—get movin!" he roared, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her along with him without pausing.

When Jenna finally looked around as they ran, struggling to keep up with his stride while he practically dragged her along, she could see _where_ they were moving. Daryl had circled the truck around the horde and was now speeding back in the direction of the RV up ahead—so far up ahead that they might as well have been on their own island. The truck barreled through the scattered mob, clipping one walker in the side with such force that its right leg was nearly torn off completely on impact.

"Get in, let's go!" Daryl hollered as the truck came upon them.

Shane all but threw Jenna into the back of the truck as soon as the vehicle was within reach, and she crashed into the chopper—though, if there was any damage sustained from that impact, she was on the receiving end, rather than the large motorcycle. She lunged forward and grabbed onto Shane's shirt, working to help him pull himself up and over the side panel. When he was over, they both tumbled back onto the floor of the truck, jostling the motorcycle again.

"Watch the bike!" Daryl growled to them angrily.

"_Go!_" Shane and Jenna yelled back in unison, shooting him a glare through the back window.

The truck peeled out a moment later, leaving the advancing mob of corpses in the dust as it sped away, racing forward to catch up with the RV that had stopped in the distance. Jenna was just glad that the horde hadn't surrounded the entire caravan—someone would have been lost for sure, otherwise. And as far away as the RV had been, Thao was in no danger. At least there had been that. Otherwise, if things came down to one horrible choice, Shane or Thao, Jenna would've chosen to save her boy without a second thought. As horrible and selfish as that was, she just could not stand the thought of losing her boy. The guilt of sacrificing Shane's life for Thao's would've shredded at her already decimated soul, but she would've done it. She would have left Shane for dead if it meant keeping Thao alive, even though she _loathed_ herself to no end for being so cold and callous. It wouldn't have been the first time a man died at her hands, but it would've been the first time a _good_ man died at her hands. And maybe that would've finally been enough to really send her over the edge, into the chasm that she'd been narrowly avoiding for so long. The blood of an innocent man on her hands...maybe _that_ was her breaking point.

"Thank you," said Shane breathlessly when they were in the clear, out of reach of the walkers behind them.

It was like a punch to the gut—much swifter and more devastating than the one she'd received from Ed back at the quarry. _For the love of God, do _not_ thank me. Not after everything that just went through my head. _

Jenna leaned back against the tailgate, her shoulders sagging as the adrenaline vanished from her body, leaving fatigue in its absence. "Don't thank me—thank Daryl," she panted. "He's the one who noticed. If he hadn't…" She trailed off and looked over her shoulder, back at the mass of walking corpses in the distance. She didn't need to finish that sentence—the certain death sentence was clear to both of them. If Daryl hadn't been paying attention, Shane would have been lost for sure.

She looked back at him while he leaned back against the carriage of the truck, his head resting against the window. He was spent, and she couldn't blame him—so was she. Near death experiences had a tendency to take a lot out of a person.

"Still have a problem with me diving right in?" she asked, still trying to catch her breath.

Shane let out a weary laugh, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. "Still a smartass, even now."

She laughed breathlessly and let her head rest back against the tailgate as the truck cruised down the street, keeping pace with the caravan now. Pulling the bandana from her pocket, she wiped the sweat from her face and tucked it away before settling the emptied M4A1 down at her feet between them.

_Thank you, Alex, _she thought bitterly, but she didn't let the cold seep into her psyche now. Now was not the time to dwell on the past. Not when the next five minutes weren't even guaranteed.

* * *

Jenna looked around as the truck rolled forward bringing up the rear of the shortened caravan, she and Shane still sitting in the back with Merle's Triumph. Things had calmed down considerably, and that was a relief, but why they were moving further into the city was beyond her. They really needed to start communicating so that they could _collaborate_. As bad as things had been in that residential street, they could only be worse in the heart of the city.

As though to respond to her silent musings, the CB began to sputter in the carriage of the truck.

"Daryl, ya read me?" a voice—Rick's—asked.

Daryl swiped the speaker from the cradle. "Yeah, I read ya," Daryl replied.

"How's Shane an' Jenna? Everyone good?" Rick's disembodied voice asked.

"They're fine, everyone's fine," Daryl confirmed. "Why the hell we headin straight for the hot zone, hoss? You lookin for another close call?"

"We're headin to the nursing home," Rick's voice responded. "Guillermo an' his people—they'll take us in for the night."

"Better hope you're right," Daryl grumbled, and returned the speaker to its cradle.

Well, this was quite the turn of events. How ironic was it that Jenna had just considered taking off and heading to the nursing home last night? From the looks of things, she would've ended up with the group either way. She imagined how awkward it would've been if she had taken Thao with her to Guillermo's group, only for the rest of them to show up the following day, and almost smirked. _That_ would've been quite the reunion.

"You sure about those people?" Shane asked, pulling her from her thoughts. "They took Glenn hostage, right?"

"Yeah, well, we took one of their men hostage," she reminded him. "But we parted on good terms, I'd say. Rick handled things pretty well," she admitted, still impressed. "At the very least, there's no hostility between us."

Shane didn't look completely convinced, but if he had any doubts, he didn't choose to voice them while they rode along. Jenna just wanted to get there and get there fast. Being in the back of Daryl's truck while Thao was inside the RV was not sitting well with her. That close call with Shane still had her rattled, and she wanted to physically see her boy to ensure he was safe.

Eventually, after much careful navigation through the city streets, the truck was following the caravan through the same alleyway they had come upon to make the trade for Glenn just a few days ago. Jenna wondered how Guillermo would respond to this many people knocking on his door for shelter, but at least she knew he wouldn't open fire once he saw them. He'd hear them out, at the very least. If he'd had the patience to negotiate with Rick for the life of one of his men, then he would surely have it in him to hear them out for temporary shelter.

The truck pulled to a stop in the alley behind the RV, and Jenna hopped out of the back immediately, set on her course.

"Ain't gonna bring your gun?" Shane asked, hopping out after her, his Mossberg in hand.

"It's empty—what good is it gonna do anyone now?" she replied, heading straight for the RV as Andrea and Dale exited the vehicle first.

As soon as she reached the open door, Thao came leaping out of it and into Jenna's arms, wrapping himself around her upper body like a strait-jacket. Carl whizzed by them in the next moment, colliding with Shane roughly, throwing his arms around his uncle of sorts.

"Shane!" Carl gasped in relief. "I thought you were gonna die!"

Shane lifted the boy up and wrapped his arms around his small body, holding him close. "I'm alright, man," he assured Carl. "I'm really alright." He set him back down on his feet and ruffled his hair. "Go on back to your mama," he said with a goofy-happy grin to match Carl's—they were both basking in the elation that Shane was in fact alive—and patted his back to send him on his way.

Jenna smiled slightly at the exchange and smoothed Thao's hair down in a comforting motion, clinging to him just as much as he was clinging to her.

"Thought y'all were goners," sighed Dusty in relief as she stepped out of the RV last, wrapping her arms around both Jenna and Thao for a moment before stepping back to examine her. "You really alright?"

"I'm fine," Jenna assured her, swaying Thao back and forth slightly. "We're all fine, sweetheart," she murmured to her boy gently.

Then she caught sight of her machete in Dusty's hand, and quirked a brow.

"Oh," said Dusty, smirking slightly. "When we saw y'all were stuck back there, I was gonna go an' help you," he explained. "Couldn't find your gun, or mine at the bottom of my bag, but I found this." She held the machete out for Jenna to take. "Glenn stopped me from runnin out the door, though," she added with a disgruntled grumble.

Jenna smirked ruefully. That was probably a very wise move on Glenn's part.

"Looks like they're barely hanging on," muttered Andrea, looking around the alleyway critically. "What makes you think they'll take in strangers?" she asked, looking over at Rick as the group converged around the Cherokee at the front.

"All the guns we gave em, they'll probably through us a party," said Daryl before Rick could respond. "Good call," he said to Rick, "for _once_."

"C'mon, buddy," said Jenna to Thao, setting him down on his feet. "Let's go."

He held onto her free hand tightly, refusing to let go, and they walked with the group, the men armed and at the lead. But as they neared the back entrance of the chop-shop where they knew the doors would be open, Jenna looked around, and knew that things weren't right. There should have been someone out there. Guillermo said they had people watching the perimeter night and day—yet there was no one.

"Where are the lookouts?" Glenn asked in a tense whisper, obviously having spotted the same problem.

As they began to round the corner that would bring them to the back doors, Shane held a hand out to the rest of them, cautioning them—they couldn't be sure what was lying in wait, after all. He spat out a curse in fury, and as the rest of them rounded the corner slowly, cautiously, Jenna's heart dropped as she turned Thao's face into her stomach automatically, blocking his view from the grisly sight before them.

Walkers littered the small area, chewing on the bodies of the handful of dead men lying on the pavement. Men that Jenna recognized from the chop-shop. These were Guillermo's people. Hell, one of the walkers gnawing on the body nearest them was one of his people as well.

What the hell happened? How had things come to this for these people in just the few days that they'd last seen them?

It wasn't long before the walkers noticed the arrival of fresh meat, and they rose to their feet almost in unison, snarling, blood and gore dripping from their mouths. The men all moved to line themselves with Shane and Rick, making a sort of wall between the walkers and the rest of the group behind them, and raised their guns at the slowly advancing gathering of corpses.

"To hell with the noise," said Rick in a cold, angry tone, glaring murderously at the walkers in front of him.

He stepped forward, raised his revolver, and fired. The others responded immediately, opening fire on the rest of them, and Jenna dropped to the ground, shoving Thao down with her and moving so that his body was beneath hers just in case some of the bullets happened to ricochet.

After the torrent of gunfire had ceased, Jenna looked around to be sure all the walkers had been shot down before rising to stand, pulling Thao up with her.

"C'mon," Rick urged them, rushing to the doors before any more walkers could swarm the area in response to all the noise.

He and Shane pried the doors open and after scanning the chop-shop briefly, they ushered the others inside before pulling the doors closed behind them again. Jenna held Thao clamped to her side as they moved with the group through the building, her eyes scanning around the place constantly, searching for any sign of life—or approaching death.

When they reached the nursing home, Shane, Rick, and Daryl led the way, giving each room lining the hallway a brief scan before moving onto the next. The smell was the first thing Jenna noticed, and she put her hand over her nose and mouth reflexively. The bodies that littered the hallway had been dead for a least a few days, and Jenna realized this had to have happened very shortly after they'd left—perhaps their tragedy at camp hadn't been the only tragedy to occur in Georgia that night.

"Keep your voices down, let's go," Shane urged them in a tense, hushed tone as they all moved through the hallway.

Sophia caught sight of the dead bodies in one of the rooms and whimpered fearfully, burying her face into her mother's side as she began to cry.

"Shut that kid up!" Daryl hissed angrily.

"Back off, an' I mean _now_!" Lori shot back in defensive hostility, and Daryl spat out a breath of annoyance before turning back around and proceeding up the hallway. "Are we stayin, or goin?" she asked Rick then, simmering down.

"We don't have the fuel," Rick told her regretfully.

"We can hunker down for the night, okay?" said Shane to them in as calm a voice as he could manage under all the tension that permeated the lot of them. "Okay, Rick—me, you, an' Daryl, we're gonna sweep the building, make sure we're alone," he decided.

Rick nodded and turned back to face the rest of the group. "The rest of you, barricade those doors," he instructed, pointing at the doors leading outside behind them.

Glenn and T-Dog nodded quickly, and the separate groupings moved to fulfill their own tasks. While she helped the others shove shelves and hospital beds in front of the doors, Jenna's mind was with the three who'd gone off to venture into the rest of the building. She hoped that whatever they found along the way, no one was hurt. They couldn't afford any more losses today. One more loss would destroy them all.

No sooner than they'd finished barricading the doors was there the sound of shuffling footsteps and guttural snarling just on the other side of it. Glenn and Jenna responded immediately, putting a hand on whoever was in their reach and pushing them down to the ground, motioning for them to stay down and stay quiet. It was just one walker from the sound of it, and the best thing they could do now was remain undetected and wait for it to pass. Killing it from their position would be difficult—and noisy—and doing so would run the risk of attracting even more.

Sophia, who was clutching Eliza's rag doll to her chest like it was a lifeline, was trembling while they all sat huddled beneath the blockade, trying her best not to give voice to her fearful sobs. But Carl, who seemed to have inherited the same bravery his father possessed, was remaining calm and quiet—white as a ghost, but calm and quite just the same. He reached out and grasped Sophia's hand comfortingly, putting a finger to his lips and giving her a reassuring nod.

Eventually, after crouching down so long Jenna's knees were starting to ache, the walker outside lost interest and wandered away. When they could no longer hear it, Glenn urged everyone back to their feet so they could move away from the doors. Jenna pulled Thao up to his feet—his face had been hidden in her shoulder all the while, and kept her left arm wrapped around him while they moved down the hallway hurriedly, clamping him securely to her side.

So suddenly that Jenna almost ran straight into him, a slim figure stepped out from one of the rooms she was about to pass, reaching for Carol's turned back as she sped to keep up with Lori and Andrea, pulling Sophia with her.

Dusty's shriek of terror came out as a choked gasp when the walker lunged out through the doorway suddenly, and Jenna jumped backward automatically. Pushing Thao behind her into Dusty in the next moment, she swung her machete out, bringing the blade cracking into its skull.

The body fell forward with a thud, and the rest of the group ahead of them spun around in shock at the sight of the fallen walker.

As Jenna turned to reach for Thao, she halted—something had caught her eye. On the neck of the skinny walker was a pot leaf tattoo that she recognized, and realization made her heart clench in remorse. The walker she'd just taken down was Miguel. That kid that she'd held at gunpoint just a few days ago. That kid that she'd refused to kill.

A remorseful sigh escaped her lips, and she knelt down at the boy's side, looking at his face. There were no bites that she could see, but there was a nasty-looking gash on his side that must've been the scratch that sealed his fate. But there was more—a bullet hole that looked to make a clean path through his stomach and out his lower back. He'd been shot, but the shooter hadn't known enough to make a headshot?

"Isn't that…?" T-Dog asked in a whisper as he came to stand at her side.

"Miguel, yeah," muttered Jenna, reaching down and closing the boy's eyes. "Fuckin bastards…" she said under her breath, shaking her head as she rose to stand.

Thao moved to her side, and she took his hand immediately, leading him away from the dead boy on the floor. They caught up to the rest of the group, T-Dog and Dusty bringing up the rear, and were met by Shane, Rick, and Daryl at the end of the long hallway. Jenna was relieved to see all three of them return unharmed, and they were led back into the same room they'd found Glenn with Mr. Gilbert days ago.

This room smelled even worse than the hallway, and as Jenna took note of all the bloody, decaying bodies that littered the floor, she wasn't surprised. She picked Thao up into her arms and turned his head so that it was once again hidden in her shoulder, running her hand up and down his back in soothing motions. Things just seemed to keep getting worse as they day progressed.

"Upstairs is our best bet," Rick told them all intently when they'd gathered. "We've cleared a few rooms, an' we can barricade those if we have to… We'll be alright…"

"You mean it this time?" Carol asked him in a trembling voice, looking up at him disdainfully from where she sat in a vacant seat of one of the tables. "Or are you lyin to us like all the times before?" she asked accusingly, clearly still unhappy about hearing Rick's drunken admission to Jenner.

"That's unfair," said Lori defensively to her friend on her husband's behalf, "an' no help at all."

"What the hell happened?" Glenn asked in disbelief, looking around at the carnage in the room in dismay.

_What the hell happened indeed?_ Jenna thought bitterly. How had things gone so wrong?

"What do you think?" asked Andrea snidely, arms crossed over her chest. "They got overrun."

Daryl spat out a derisive breath, shaking his head as he scanned his gaze around the room as a whole, taking it all in.

Andrea whipped her head around in his direction, glaring daggers at him. "Something to say?" she challenged snottily.

"Yeah, how 'bout _observant_," said Daryl scathingly.

"Observant," mirrored Andrea, her tone mockingly impressed. "Big word for a guy like you. Three whole syllables."

Jenna reminded herself that Andrea was still mourning the death of her sister, and had just contemplated suicide that morning at the CDC, and therefore, it would be a tad harsh to call the woman out on her haughty attitude. But it wasn't like Daryl needed her to defend him, as he quickly made that quite clear when he began tearing the woman down on his own.

"Walkers didn't do this," he pointed out. "They didn't show up 'til all this went down," he explained, waving a hand at the bodies in the room. "Somebody _attacked_ this place. Killed all these people, took whatever they wanted. They're all shot in the head—execution style. Y'all worried about walkers? I'd be much more worried 'bout the people who came an' did all _this_."

Everyone looked around the room, studying the bodies with that new vantage point, and Jenna thanked her lucky stars for Daryl Dixon's blunt, undiluted honesty. Sure, everyone was even more scared than they had been, but at least they knew what to be scared of.

Walkers weren't the only danger out there, and it was time everyone started to acknowledge that.

"Get a dictionary," Daryl said to Andrea mockingly, slinging his Horton over his shoulder, "look it up. _Observant_."

Andrea glared at him a moment longer before her eyes cast downward, refusing to look around at the bodies that had captured everyone's interest in light of Daryl's observation. She looked thoroughly chastened, which Jenna had to admit was a nice change, petty as that was.

She looked around at the bodies, studying the old lady that lie over one of the fallen chairs at her right. The sticky blood that had leaked from the hole in her forehead was just confirmation of Daryl's words. Someone had come here and massacred these people, and walkers must've moved in fairly quickly after that if they'd gotten their teeth and hands on some of the vatos that were still hanging on after they'd been wounded.

Whoever had caused this massacre had obviously moved on a while ago, so Jenna wasn't too worried that they would be returning any time soon—especially if they ransacked the place like Daryl had said. They had no reason to return to this crypt.

She placed her hand over Thao's head while she swayed back and forth in slow, rhythmic motions, hoping to soothe him.

She thought of Miguel out in the hallway and closed her eyes swiftly, absorbing that. Like Tyler and Dillon, he had died long before his time, and that was just cruel. Such was the world they were now living in, however. Someone with more power than these people had come in, seen the soft underbelly that Guillermo spent so much time and energy trying desperately to conceal and protect, and lunged—ruthlessly. Jenna had done a lot that she would regret for the rest of her life, however long or short it may be, but she'd never done anything like _this_. This was just…malicious.

There was truth in Guillermo's words to Rick, and the evidence was painted all over this building with the blood of these victims. The weak get taken. The ruthless reign supreme. Those basic principles of the world remained the same, just as Guillermo had pointed out—only now, they were much, _much_ more exaggerated than ever before.

* * *

**Note:**

We are now moving into part two of Lone Wolfe. Things are going to get darker, folks, I assure you. Thank you to those who are sticking with the story, it means a lot. I hope the first installation of part two is up to scratch! Tell me what you think!


	21. Shaken and Shattered

**Disclaimer: I seriously do not own The Walking Dead, or anything in its relation. Seriously. **

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and suggestive themes.

**Note: **This chapter is told entirely from Shane's point of view, just a head's up to avoid confusion.

* * *

_"Quiet people have the loudest minds."_

_—Stephen Hawking_

* * *

Shaken and Shattered

_SPOV_

Shane entered the crafts room, Rick following in after him, and his heart sank a bit more when the others looked up at them hopefully from where they all sat on the floor. Hungry, tired, scared. He wished he had more to offer them. Especially the kids.

He, Rick, Daryl, and Glenn had returned to the cars and grabbed everyone's bag, bringing them up to the crafts room where the others had all gathered. The other rooms in the upstairs hallway of the nursing home had been cleared, but no one seemed to want to venture away from the group, feeling safer together, he assumed. Even Jenna hadn't ventured off on her own, as he'd half expected her to have done by now, but seeing her free hand clasped around Dusty's, he thought he may have understood her reason for staying at her friend's side. Dusty had just lost Jacki, whom she'd been very close to from the beginning. Before Shane had even met them.

"They ransacked the kitchen," he told them regretfully, holding up the single can of garbanzo beans so they could see it. "All we found is the one can," he said, tossing said can to Daryl, who caught it readily before passing it to Glenn.

"They hit up the dispensary too—pulled the door off its hinges," said Rick. "Took everythin, except this," he said, handing the box of cough drops to Lori.

Glenn knelt down and busied himself with preparing plates of the miniscule amounts of food for everyone, dividing the beans up into equal proportions.

"Came back for cough drops an' garbanzo beans," said Daryl, shaking his head.

"Is there any water?" Sophia asked hopefully, peering up at Shane and Rick.

Shane pulled the bottle from his bag and handed it to the child. "Just the one bottle I brought," he told her as she took it gratefully. "Just a few sips, okay honey? Gotta make it last…"

She nodded eagerly and took a sip of water.

"Actually, here…" said Jenna's voice quietly from where she sat on the floor beside Dusty with Thao in her lap, and Shane turned to see her unzipping her bag. "Pass these around if people are thirsty," she said, handing Dusty a bottle of water, and then handing another to Dale in the other direction so the bottles could circulate around the group. She pulled out a third and tossed it over to Daryl across the room.

"Saved by the Mouse," said Daryl amusedly, twisting off the cap and taking a drink before passing the bottle off to Rick.

Jenna didn't seem to hear him, for she kept her eyes down, running her hand up and down Thao's arm gently. The faraway set of her eyes told Shane her mind was elsewhere. He wished she would be more in the habit of voicing her thoughts, as they were usually worth sharing, he'd noted. Why was she so willing to dive in and act, recklessly and dangerously, but unwilling to speak up? The woman was a bit of a conundrum.

"What else you got in there?" Dusty asked Shane, nodding at his bag, which he was still digging through.

He sat back down and pulled out a small bag of potato chips, waving it at her with a smirk, and she laughed.

"Salty snacks," said Daryl with amusement.

Shane laughed lightly in agreement as he tossed the bag to Dusty. "Courtesy of the CDC," he said, proceeding to toss each of the others a bag of their own. "Thought I'd be havin midnight snacks in my air-conditioned room…didn't know it'd be dinner." He reached into his bag then and pulled out a bottle of wine. "And this."

"Would you like to share?" Daryl asked hopefully, taking a seat at Shane's left.

"Seein as I owe you my life," said Shane, passing the bottle to him. "See, I, uh… See, I'ma go ahead and be nice to you from now on," he joked, and Jenna let out a small breath of laughter from where she sat, smirking, perhaps glad to see the two of them getting along voluntarily for once.

"Think I earned the first swallow," Daryl agreed, popping off the cap and pouring himself a cup. "Mouse, offer still stands," he added jokingly.

Jenna smirked again, glancing up at him. "I'll take a rain check," she said quietly.

Daryl laughed lightly as he passed the bottle to Dale. "Suit yourself, but I'ma get you one of these days."

She just breathed a short laugh, and returned her attention to her plate of food, moving the beans around on her plate with her fingers absently, seeming to be lost in thought again.

"Let's go easy on that stuff," said Lori in a mildly chastising tone as she opened Carl's bag of chips for him. "Let's not forget where we are," she said pointedly.

"Yes ma'am," Daryl replied sarcastically without missing a beat.

Dale stood and moved across the room, catching Shane's attention, and the old man made his way over to Andrea a bit cautiously, holding a plate of food out to her while she gazed ahead without bothering to look up at him. He knelt down in front of her, concern etched all over his face, and she reluctantly took the plate from him, though she refused to make eye-contact.

"You alright?" Dale asked her gently.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Andrea replied dully, setting her plate down beside her. "I'm spending the night in a building that stinks so badly of rotten bodies I wanna vomit up my guts, I'm dining on condiments, and hoping I don't get eaten by dead cannibal freaks before dawn," she said. "What's not to like?"

Shane noticed that Jenna's attention had apparently been snagged by the older woman's rant, for her fingers had stilled over the plate and her eyes had shifted over in that direction. Judging by her expression, she didn't seem to appreciate the older woman's pessimism too much.

"Thank you, Dale," finished Andrea, her eyes cold and hard as she finally met the old man's gaze.

Dale blinked, stunned, and rose to stand again before retreating from the room, bringing a plate of food out to T-Dog, who was keeping watch over the stairway. The room had grown tense and quiet, and Shane caught Jenna shaking her head slightly before stroking Thao's hair gently with her other hand.

A water bottle circulated around to Shane and he took a quick drink, wanting to make their scarce water supply last as long as possible.

Lori stood up and stepped over to Rick, who stood by the window, periodically peering through the shades to keep watch. There was a lot of truth in what Daryl had said earlier—they had more reason to worry about whoever had come in and massacred all of these people than they did about whatever walkers lurched around outside.

"What's next?" she asked him. "We need to decide."

Rick turned around and looked at Shane. "Fort Benning," he said, and Shane nodded. "I shoulda listened to you, Shane," he said regretfully. "An' you, Jenna," he added, looking over at her. She just glanced up at him for a moment before casting her eyes back downward. "Woulda saved us a lot of grief if I had," Rick continued. "Jacki would still be alive."

"That was her choice," Jenna voiced gently, running a hand up and down Dusty's shoulder soothingly as the other girl ducked her head.

"Man, do not take that on," Shane advised in agreement. "That wasn't on you."

"It was her choice," Lori agreed, placing a comforting hand on Rick's arm. "It was her decision to make, not yours, no more 'n it was with Jim."

Rick remained silent, and Shane doubted whether he took their words to heart.

"All these people," Glenn said after a pause, shaking his head. "Who would've done something like this? Just…come in here and murder everybody…even all the old people—how sick is that?"

"Glenn," said Jenna, gaining his attention.

He looked over at her and she made a quick slashing motion in front of her neck, displaying the universal sign telling him to cut it out. The boy nodded abruptly, and Jenna turned her attention back to Thao, running her hand across the child's shoulders in a gentle, reassuring motion when he peered up at her questioningly. She murmured to him in a low, soothing tone, her words to soft to carry beyond the little boy's ears.

"Is that somethin we need to be discussing right now?" Lori scolded Glenn, shooting him a stern look as she returned to her place on the floor beside Carl.

"I think it'd be best if we all got some sleep, hm?" Shane suggested lightly to the group, rising out of his seat.

He nodded at Rick and Daryl discreetly, and they nodded back, understanding. Rick turned to Glenn, gesturing for the boy to follow them as they made their way out of the room and into the dark hallway, just out of earshot.

"Hey," Shane said to Glenn in a hushed tone, "kids in there are terrified, an' the women," he told him.

"Guys, I'm really sorry," Glenn apologized sincerely, his voice heavy.

"Mouse's the only one in there who don't look scared," Daryl commented, referring to Jenna, Shane knew. Suddenly, she'd become _Mouse_ to most of them, which he found to be mildly amusing.

"She doesn't look scared of anything," said Glenn, a hint of awe in the boy's voice. "I mean, did you see the way she took out those walkers earlier, when you were stuck?" he asked, looking over at Shane. "I wouldn't have been able to do it, not like that."

"Yeah, she's…full of surprises," noted Rick, nodding.

Shane turned to Rick then. "I say it's time we started listenin to her a little more, hm?" he suggested. "She what she's got to say?"

The little woman may have been frustratingly quiet and hostile when she felt threatened, but she had saved Shane's ass twice today, and he was not about to forget that in a hurry.

"Hell, you won't hear me complainin," said Daryl, taking a swig of wine from the bottle. Somehow, it seemed to have circulated back to him rather quickly.

Rick looked around at the three of them, seeing the general consensus among them, and nodded his agreement. "Glenn, you wanna go an' bring her out here?" he asked, and Glenn nodded before returning to the crafts room. "Did she tell any of you how she knew about Jenner's wife?" he asked Shane and Daryl. "How Jenner knew 'bout her boyfriend—Alex?"

Shane shook his head, but Daryl nodded.

"In the truck," he began, swallowing a second swig of wine, "I asked her about that too. She told me she talked to Jenner last night in the mess hall."

"She don't tend to share much information with others, does she?" Rick asked, frowning in contemplation.

"I don't think she's had much reason to up until recently," Shane replied reasonably.

Rick nodded in agreement. "You mind talkin to her?" he asked Shane. "See if she knows anythin else we should?"

Shane nodded a bit reluctantly, not liking having to play spy for Rick.

Rick turned around and Shane looked over his shoulder when Glenn returned down the hallway with Jenna by his side, a bottle of water in her hands. She approached them, coming to a stop a couple feet away, her eyes moving from each of them in question.

"We'd like to hear your take on things," Rick explained to her, and she turned her eyes up to him. "It's pretty clear that we can count on your judgment more often than not, if you don't mind sharin your thoughts."

She turned her eyes from Rick to Daryl and ultimately landing on Shane. Seeing the puzzlement in her eyes, he nodded encouragingly at her.

"Alright," she said eventually.

Rick nodded, and then addressed all four of them. "We're all rattled an' exhausted. No one's thinkin clearly, but we have to start. Our lives depend on it."

"Damn right," Shane agreed solemnly. "We can't ever let our guard down again…" He picked up a lantern that had been set in the hallway as they began to make their way toward the staircase where T-Dog was keeping watch. "Back at camp, havin us a fish fry, no one on watch. A lot of people died—people that didn't need to."

They came to a stop around the top of the stairway, gathering around, and T-Dog and Dale looked up at them. Jenna handed T-Dog the water bottle, and he took a drink gratefully before passing it back to her.

"Fort Benning," said Rick to them as a group, looking around, "that's the consensus?"

T-Dog shrugged indifferently. "Anywhere but here."

Rick and Shane looked over at Jenna, who had leaned her back against the wall where she stood between Glenn and Daryl, arms folded lazily over her middle, legs crossed causally at the ankles. She looked to be the picture of ease, but Shane knew otherwise. Group gatherings were not her favorite events.

"How about you?" Rick asked her. "Fort Benning?"

She quirked her closed lips over to the side and then shrugged slightly. "You don't wanna hear what I have to say," she said simply.

"No, Jenna, we do," Rick insisted, turning to face her more fully. "We should've listened to you before—_I_ should've listened to you sooner. If I had, things woulda been different today."

She put a hand up lightly to halt him, shaking her head. "No, what I mean is…you're not gonna like what I have to say. And I don't exactly wanna rain on anyone's parade, especially not tonight. These people need something to hold onto—something to hope for," she said, jerking a thumb toward the hallway that led to the crafts room.

"I'd still like to hear your opinion," Rick told her honestly.

She sighed slightly and nodded, resigned. "Can't say I didn't warn you," she said dryly. "I'm a bit biased on this one, but…I'd rather not venture into anything the military's in control of."

"You don't trust em," Shane understood.

"No, I don't," she confirmed.

"What about your military boyfriend?" Daryl asked, puzzled, and Shane wished he'd kept that comment to himself. That was a bit harsh.

Jenna didn't even bat an eye, however, and just turned her gaze to him easily. "Dead," she said simply, "along with his family—courtesy of the military." Shane lowered his head solemnly, wishing she didn't have to share this with any of them. It wasn't their place to hear it. "None of them were touched by a walker, there wasn't a single scratch or bite between the four of them. I know this because that's how I found them. Their house hadn't even been reached by walkers, that whole block had just been massacred by the military unit that was in the area. It wasn't that different from what we found _here_. They were all shot, standard military protocol—two to the chest, one to the head."

Shane closed his eyes, trying not to recall the massacre he'd seen in the hospital back in King County.

"So no, I don't trust them, because that's the way I've seen the military handle things," she continued, and Rick hung his head. "But like I said, I'm biased here," she granted honestly. She paused and looked between Shane and Rick, her demeanor strangely calm. "If you guys truly believe Fort Benning is our best option, then I'm not gonna fight you," she assured them.

"Will you stick with us?" Shane asked, wanting to be sure of that. "If that's the way we decide to go, will you stick with us?"

She held his gaze for a moment, seeming to deliberate, and then nodded. "Unless I find a reason not to, I'll stick with you," she said honestly.

Shane nodded, accepting that that was the strongest guarantee they'd be getting from her, and she turned her eyes back over to Rick.

"You're agreeing to try for Fort Benning?" he asked, to be clear, and she nodded, albeit a bit reluctantly. "Alright, thank you," he said, seemingly glad to have come to an agreement, and then moved onto the next matter at hand. "We're wastin fuel drivin so many vehicles—we need to lose a few," he told them. "We'll syphon the gas outta whatever cars we don't take. That should get us free of the city."

"That'd be a start," Shane agreed. "Let's jus' try to get a little shut-eye tonight, okay?" he urged them, and they nodded, finding no desire to protest. "T," he said to T-Dog, "I'll spell you in an hour," he promised the man, who nodded again.

"I can do that," said Jenna. "I'm not tired—I'll be up."

Shane contemplated, and then nodded in agreement. "Alright," he said. "I'll spell you in two hours, then."

She nodded and patted T-Dog's shoulder as the rest of them returned the room with the others. Jenna moved over to Thao immediately, and removed her sweatshirt, folding it to form a makeshift pillow for the child.

"Time to go to sleep, alright?" she told him in a soft voice, stroking his hair back gently as he lay down, peering up at her. "I'll be right here."

The child nodded, content with that, and took hold of her other hand before closing his eyes. In a few minutes, he'd nodded off to sleep. Jenna continued to move her fingers through his smooth black hair, gazing off into the distance silently while the conversation in the room died down. Carl and Sophia settled down to sleep soon after, and the others tried to make themselves as comfortable as possible on the hard floor to do the same.

Eventually, most everyone had drifted off to sleep, no matter how uncomfortable their situation was—they were exhausted, physically and mentally. The only ones who remained awake were Shane, Rick, Daryl, and Jenna, not including T-Dog, who was still on watch. None of them spoke, and Rick continued to check out the window periodically.

Just as Shane was closing his heavily-lidded eyes, Jenna reached out and turned Dusty's left hand over. Checking the time on her watch, apparently, she turned Dusty's hand back over and gently removed her other hand from Thao's as she stood up. She checked the magazine in her Beretta before stowing the gun back into her belt, pulled the covered machete from her bag, and headed out into the hallway to relieve T-Dog of watch duty.

T-Dog entered the room a minute later and settled down to sleep almost immediately, thoroughly exhausted.

Shane closed his eyes, telling himself he'd just sit back and relax for a bit while he could. Before he knew it, he had drifted off to sleep as well.


	22. Beneath the Surface

**Disclaimer: I truly and honestly do not own The Walking Dead, or intend any copyright, or make any profit from this. **

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and suggestive themes.

**Note: **I do not speak fluent Russian, so I apologize if—as I suspect—the translations in this chapter are _way_ off the mark. Anyone who does speak Russian, feel free to correct me. I'd appreciate it. Also, this is another Shane chapter. In the next, things will return to Jenna's point of view.

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_"Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised, or a little mistaken."_

_—Jane Austen_

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Beneath the Surface

_SPOV_

Opening his eyes, Shane scanned around the room automatically, wondering how long he'd been asleep. It was dark, the candles having died out, and even Rick had fallen asleep from his seat at the window, eyes closed, head leaning back against the wall. Was Jenna still keeping watch?

He checked the watch on his wrist and was startled to see that he'd been asleep for about four hours. He'd promised to relieve her three hours ago.

Getting up quickly and quietly, he gave the room a final examination, being sure that all the sleeping inhabitants were alright, and then exited the room. The hallway was equally dark, and he moved quietly and cautiously along, gun out and prepared for fire. His eyes didn't adjust to the darkness until he'd made his way halfway down the hall, and he saw no signs of life. It was a bit disconcerting that he didn't hear anything from Jenna at the end of the hall, and hoped that just meant she'd fallen asleep, but he assured himself that they would've known if something had happened to her.

As he turned the corner at the end of the hall, rounding to the top of the stairway, he was surprised to find Jenna wide awake and untroubled. She glanced up at him, in the process of removing the sock from her left foot, and nodded at him in greeting.

"Sorry, didn't mean to leave ya out here," he said quietly, stowing his Glock into its holster. "You shoulda woke me up."

She shrugged, turning her sock inside out and shaking it, releasing a small pebble that fell to the floor with a barely audible patter. "No problem," she said just as quietly, sounding thoroughly untroubled. "Figured you could use the rest."

"Thank you," he said then, glad she was so laid back. Why couldn't the other women be as easygoing? "You should go on in an' rest up a bit—we're gonna be on the road early."

She waved a hand lightly. "I'm alright. If you need more sleep, go ahead," she offered sincerely, turning her sock right-side-in again. "To be honest, I'm not going to sleep tonight, so I won't be doing anyone any good just lying on the floor in there."

"I'll sit up with ya then," he offered, moving to lean against the wall across from her. "Interesting tattoo ya got there," he commented after noticing the black ink on her left foot. He could see four paw prints, moving upward toward her ankle along with a line of writing. "What is that?" he wondered then, seeing that the writing wasn't in the usual Latin alphabet.

"Cyrillic," she replied, pulling her sock on.

He nodded, understanding now. "Right—Russian," he recalled, and she hummed out a light laugh while she pulled her Timberland shoe on again. "What's so funny?"

"Wasn't sure you'd remember that," she replied, sounding mildly amused.

"Hmm, that so?" he said, smirking. "I think I remember most of that night, includin you pullin my drunk ass up off the floor," he recalled, and they both laughed quietly. "Thanks for that, by the way. Might not have bothered with gettin up off the floor otherwise."

She snorted slightly, lacing up her shoe. "No problem," she said again. "Like I said, I'm good at taking care of drunk people."

He nodded in agreement, having both seen and experienced the proof of that. "What's the tat say?" he wondered.

She smirked a bit in the darkness, tucking the hem of her overlarge cargo pants back into her shoe. "Something my grandma used to tell me when I was a kid," she answered, leaning back against the wall lazily. "_Hecub s volki_," she said fluidly. "'You run with the wolves.'"

"Why'd she tell you that?" he wondered, puzzled.

"Our last name is Wolfe—with an e," she replied. "She called all her grandkids '_malo volkov_'—little wolves." Shane smirked slightly, imagining that. "Whenever we'd get a little too wild, she'd tell us, 'You kids can't be tamed, you run with the wolves.'"

"So you're Russian?" he assumed.

She nodded. "Only a quarter," she said. "My dad was half. Grandma was first generation American. Her parents came from the town Balashov in Saratov Oblast."

He nodded, mulling that over. "Your grandfather?" he wondered curiously.

"Half Italian, half German," she said. "He was third generation American though, so he grew up speaking English." Then she quirked a brow up at him, chewing on her thumbnail absently. "You ask a lot of questions," she noted, and he was glad that she only seemed mildly amused by this rather than cautious, or even offended.

He shrugged, laughing quietly. "You don't volunteer much on your own," he noted. "And the more I ask, the more I find you pretty interesting," he ventured, wondering if flattery would keep her talking.

"Hmm, interesting," she mused, smirking, and turned her eyes up to him. "Is that a nice way of telling me I'm weird?"

He let out a quiet snort of laughter, shaking his head. "Nah, that's a compliment, actually," he replied amusedly. "You're not too good at takin those, are ya?" he assumed.

She shook her head, a small smirk adorning her face. "No, but that's been a life problem," she explained, "not a recent thing. Byproduct of being an introvert."

"Introvert," he parroted. "That explains a lot."

She let out a breath of laughter. "I'll bet."

He laughed quietly with her while they sat in the darkness, keeping watch. She looked very relaxed and untroubled, he noted. She sat on the first step with her back leaned against the wall, her feet propped up against the banister post in front of her, legs crossed at the ankles. For claiming to be anti-military, she certainly looked the part of the relaxed army grunt; army green cargo pants, plain gray t-shirt, durable boots. If he didn't know better, the chain around her neck could have very well held a pair of dog tags.

He had to admit that despite being so small, she looked tough. And he knew her well enough by now to know that in her case, looks didn't deceive—especially after what he'd seen from her today.

"Can I ask ya somethin?" he asked after a moment.

Her eyes turned up to him again, and she smirked once more. "I daresay you'll find you can," she noted, and he had to laugh, both at the taunt and at her formal way of speaking.

"You told Jenner you never expected to find salvation anywhere," he noted, and she looked up at him, waiting for him to finish. "What was your plan then, in the beginnin? If you weren't lookin for somewhere to find protection, _salvation_, what were you lookin for?"

She shrugged slightly, moving her hand away from her face and flicking away the removed thumbnail, sending it flying through the poles of the railing.

"It's not what I was looking for, so much as _who_ I was looking for," she said after a moment. "He was here when everything went down—his grandparents lived in rural Georgia, he was visiting them."

That sobered him up pretty quickly. So that was what had brought her all the way from the West Coast…and it had all been for nothing, in the end.

"I'm sorry, 'bout your boyfriend," he said sincerely.

She shook her head. "No, he wasn't my boyfriend," she replied, "best friend, actually. Boyfriend died in Washington. I came here looking for Danny. I've known him half my life…couldn't just assume he was dead without knowing for sure."

"Did you find him?" Shane asked after a moment of deliberation.

She shook her head again. "I don't know the area, so I really don't know how exactly to find the place—I've only been there once, three years ago. Can't remember the road to take to get there." She ran a hand through her hair in a haphazard motion. "And when I met all of you, I didn't plan to stay long. But I have Thao to think about now, and I have to keep in mind what's best for him. A strong, stable group, or just me, wondering around rural Georgia on a wild goose chase?"

"That's a hard decision," he noted, and she nodded, not bothering to dispute that.

"Life's full of hard decisions now," she said, shrugging.

He huffed out a breath of wry laughter. "Ain't that the truth," he muttered, and she gave him rueful smirk. "You came a long way. That's quite a trip for a _friend_," he teased lightly, hoping to alleviate the somber atmosphere.

She laughed lightly, for which he was glad, and she nodded. "You sound like everyone we ever went to school with," she told him amusedly. "His grandmother thought we were dating too, and we never told her she was wrong, actually," she went on, and it was Shane's turn to laugh.

"Was there a reason for that?" he asked suggestively, biting his lip to try and stifle the smirk.

She gave him a wry half-smirk of her own. "She was ninety-two, and pretty confused by life already," she explained. "We figured it would be easier on her if we didn't correct her. Not that she was the only one confused—no one believed we weren't dating. And we never really bothered to correct them either, because we both found it amusing. And it came in handy a few times."

"He was good at keepin other guys away, hm?" he assumed, and she nodded.

"He was quite the accomplished bodyguard," she mused thoughtfully, and Shane laughed again. "But, when your two best friends are girls, that sort of comes with the territory, I guess," she added, smirking.

He could imagine so. Jenna, while she certainly didn't smile very often, was attractive. She was tough, hardened by whatever the world had thrown at her, but pretty, all the same. Keeping boys away from her in her high school years must've been quite a task. Kudos to Danny, if he'd managed that.

"Hmm, I bet it did," Shane agreed without thinking. Oops. He hadn't meant to let that one slip, but she didn't seem to have made anything of it, so he was in the clear.

She just seemed lost in thought for a moment. "We could never explain it to anyone else," she said eventually, "and we never had to explain it to each other. But, I dunno, man, we were just…two people who met and clicked"—she snapped her fingers quietly—"and that was it. No effort, no confusion. For Danny and I, being friends was the easiest thing in the world. Easier than breathing. We knew each other better than we knew ourselves."

"Y'all were real close, hm?" Shane deduced, and she nodded.

She raised her right arm a bit, showing him the Mighty Mouse tattoo on the inside of her forearm. "The Dixon brothers weren't the first to dub me 'Mighty Mouse,'" she explained, "that was Danny. He gave me that nickname when we were eleven, and he's hardly called me by my actual name since then."

Shane laughed lightly. "Not many people do, from what I can tell."

"Isn't _that_ the truth," she said wryly, leaning back and crossing the right ankle over the left, switching. "For having such a simple name, people hardly use it."

He breathed out a laugh again, knowing how true that was. Daryl called her Mouse, and T-Dog had recently taken to calling her some variant of Mighty Mouse. Dusty usually called her Jen. Jacki had called her honey more often than not. Tyler had dubbed her "city girl" and stuck with it, until the end. And from what she'd told him, Shane gathered even her family used nicknames for her rather than her actual name. Did anyone just call the girl Jenna?

"You sure you're good without sleep?" he asked after a minute. "Never know what's gonna happen tomorrow."

She shrugged again. "I'm used to going for days without sleep, man," she told him. "You'd be surprised to see exactly how hard it is to find a safe place to sleep when it's just you. You think a car's a safe bet—guess again. That's nothing but a good way to get yourself trapped." She shrugged again. "I got plenty of sleep last night. I'm good."

"You know, for someone who knows how dangerous it is bein on your own, you're sure keen on goin that way," he noted.

She shrugged. "It makes things easier, in a lot of ways," she said honestly, that faraway set in her eyes making another appearance.

"Oh yeah?" he asked, wanting her to elaborate. This seemed to be the kind of information Rick had asked for. As much as he hated playing spy, he had to admit, he was curious. What made her so sure that being away from the group was in her best interest?

She nodded, and then her eyes seemed to focus on the present when she glanced up at him. "When it's just you, you can go for miles without having to stop for anything," she explained. "The only thing stopping you is you. You only have yourself to make decisions for, you only have yourself to worry about. No one's there to fuck things up for you but yourself, so as long as you can make clear-headed decisions on your own, you're just fine. And when it's just you, it's easier to go undetected. Making trips for supplies is a hell of a lot easier when it's just one person. Just ask Glenn."

She glanced up at him again, smirking a little ruefully.

"A group offers protection, support, stability…comfort…all those things. And when they can cooperate, it's great," she granted. "It's a system that works—until it doesn't," she pointed out contrastingly, and he nodded, having to agree with her there. "When you're alone, there's no one to _collaborate_ with, but there's also no one there to argue with you. When people can't agree on a decision, that creates discord, and discord can be dangerous. When people are scared, they do rash things, and in a group setting…that makes it even worse. I learned quickly to avoid groups of people and go it alone."

"But you stayed with us," he reminded her.

She nodded thoughtfully, running her left hand under her nose out of habit. "That wasn't my intention," she said truthfully, and then laughed lightly. "Honestly, when I first came to that quarry, it was everything I spent all of my time trying to avoid. Red flags were going up everywhere, as far as I was concerned."

He thought of Tyler, Tito, of Roy, and Merle. Men who'd had no problem with letting her and everyone else know they were attracted to her. Small young woman on her own, of course she would want to steer clear of any such situation. And then there was Ed to factor in. Shane would never feel compelled to lie and say he was sorry the man had died. The son of a bitch had deserved his fate for all that he'd put his wife and little girl through for years. He recalled the burning wave of anger he'd been washed over with when he saw Ed backhand Jenna across the face hard enough to send her spinning. He recalled how much that fury had intensified when Ed had sunken his large fist into her small stomach with enough force to subdue a grown man. What kind of scumbag had no qualms about putting his hands on women that way?

"But you stayed anyway," he pointed out after a moment, and he was thoroughly glad she had. They would all be dead, otherwise.

"Almost didn't," she said dryly. "And I was about a second away from taking off when we were stuck outside the CDC. If those doors hadn't opened when they did…" She shook her head. "Thao and I would've been _gone_."

Well, he couldn't say that he blamed her for that—but he was extremely glad that those doors had opened when they did. Otherwise, she wouldn't have been there to get them all out.

"What changed your mind, up at camp?" he asked eventually. "You coulda taken Glenn's Dodge and headed out like you wanted—what changed?"

She was silent for a moment, a faraway look in her eyes, and only then did he begin to realize how much thought she must've put into that particular decision. It was by no means an impulsive choice to stay with them, he understood.

"Thao was happy there, with all of you," she replied after a pause. "He had other kids to play with, a place that could be a more or less permanent location for him. A sense of…normalcy…security," said Jenna, waving a hand vaguely, and then shrugged. "It's not about me anymore. Hasn't been since he came along."

"Twenty-two's pretty young to be a mother," he noted sincerely, thinking of Rick and Lori. They'd had Carl when Lori was only twenty, Rick twenty-two. It had been a pretty rough ride in the first years for them, before they got the hang of parenthood.

Her eyes turned up to him, puzzled. "Mother?"

"You got another name for what you're doin?" he asked her honestly. "That boy's yours, Jenna. There's no arguin that."

She looked back down, frowning on contemplation. "Mother," she said again, as though testing the word, weighing it's value. "Never thought of it that way, really."

Shane laughed lightly. "You're young," he said by way of explanation at her inquiring glance.

She smirked then. "And what're you—old?" she mocked, and he had to laugh. "These days, twenty-two's the new thirty."

"That so?" he asked amusedly, and she nodded. "Then I guess thirty-two's the new forty."

She huffed out another breath of laughter and nodded, conceding to that. "I feel a lot older sometimes," she mused after a moment, "tired, _weary_. Tired like I've never been before."

He nodded, understanding exactly how that felt. "This world takes a lot outta ya, girl," he told her.

"Hell yeah, it does," she agreed with a wry laugh.

He laughed with her quietly for a moment, and watched as she turned the small silver pinky ring around on her finger absentmindedly.

"Well, for what it's worth," he began again, and her eyes turned back up to his, "I'm glad ya decided to stay, despite all the red flags." She laughed under her breath, giving him a sardonically amused smile. "If it weren't for you, none of us would be here right now," he added thoughtfully. "We all owe you for that, girl, don't you forget it."

Another breath of wry laughter escaped her, and she shook her head slightly, looking off into space again.

"You're all just lucky I happen to look a lot like Candace Jenner," she said dryly.

Shane's brows raised in surprise, as he certainly hadn't been expecting that bit of information. "Jenner tell ya that?" he assumed.

She nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "He told me that when we talked last night," she explained. "He didn't tell me who Candace was—he just said I looked a lot like a woman he used to work with there at the CDC. And he wasn't wrong," she said, shaking her head in slight bemusement. "The picture of her he was holding…it could've been me twenty years from now if I had red hair and brown eyes."

Shane mulled over that information, and a few things fell into place. In the heat of the moment, caught up in all the chaos, it was hard to really pay attention to the minor details of what had happened that morning. But now, after it was all over and done with, and there was time to look back and ponder, a few things stood out to him that he hadn't really considered until now.

He had noticed that whenever Jenner avoided answering a question, he avoided Jenna's eyes more than anyone else's. And when Jenna had started asking the tough questions—the right questions—it was like watching a battle of wills between two people who could see right through each other. Jenner hadn't wanted to tell them what was going to happen when the timer reached zero, because he didn't want _Jenna_ to know. When she'd demanded to know exactly what "decontamination" meant, he looked like telling her would kill him.

And then, when she'd convinced him to open the door and let them escape, she'd acted completely out of character and kissed his cheek. Shane had thought it strange at the time, but hadn't exactly been in the right circumstances to wonder about it. Later, he'd thought it strange for her to do, for being someone who tended to avoid physical contact with strangers if she could help it. But now he understood what she had known then—when Jenner looked at her, he hadn't been seeing her. He saw his wife. Jenna had acted in compassion rather than gratitude, as Shane had first assumed.

"You knew exactly what to say," he said eventually, and she looked back up at him. "You stayed calm and did exactly the right thing to get us out while everyone else was panicking. While _I_ was losin my head. You knew exactly what to do, and you did it. You got us out."

She shrugged slightly, looking back down, not agreeing, but not disputing either. She tugged at the chain around her neck absently, staring off into space, and the blood that still dotted her shirt caught Shane's attention. Whatever Jenna had said before, she'd saved his ass today. Daryl had too, and he wasn't shy about taking credit for it, but Jenna seemed to want to just sweep the whole thing under the rug and pretend it didn't happen. What Shane couldn't understand was _why_.

The faraway set of her eyes was in full flux, and despite the fact that she'd spoken a lot more tonight than she usually did, Shane couldn't shake the feeling that there was a lot more she _hadn't_ voiced. What else lie hidden beneath the surface of this woman's mind?

* * *

**Note: **

Sorry if you don't like reading from Shane's point of view, but that will be a recurring theme throughout the story. Fret not, however, because we will be returning to Jenna's point of view next, as promised.

On another note, does anyone happen to know from which book I snagged Jenna's line "I daresay you'll find you can"?


	23. Flip the Switch

**Disclaimer: I am not Robert Kirkman, and thus, I am not the owner of The Walking Dead. Jenna Wolfe, on the other hand, I take full responsibility for. **

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and suggestive themes.

**Note: **I'm using Shane's "turn off a switch" analogy from the episode Cherokee Rose here, because I find it very fitting. The first half of this chapter is composed of a lot of imagery and figurative speech, and I apologize if it's tedious to read through. It was something that needed to be explained, however. We'll get back into action next chapter, I promise.

* * *

_"He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you."_

_—Friedrich Nietzsche_

* * *

Flip the Switch

Shane seemed to think that what she'd done in the CDC was admirable—heroic, even. Which made Jenna sick to her stomach, really, but she couldn't blame him. He didn't know better. He didn't know that it was not strength that had gotten her to act. No, it wasn't strength at all. It wasn't strength, it wasn't intuition…it wasn't even compassion. It was something much, much darker.

In the CDC, when all of the chaos and panic had reached its peak, all she'd had to do was flip a switch, and everything else had been tuned out. All the panic she'd been nearly overwhelmed by, all of the fear, the doubt, the anger…every debilitating emotion had been shut off by the flip of a switch, and she'd been able to think in the clearest, most calculative way. It was all just logic then, logic in its most basic form. What was going to get them out of there alive? With emotions out of the way, she'd been able to calculate and do it quickly. Her head was clear—startlingly so.

Had it gotten them out alive? Yes. But it was far from an act of heroism. The ability to locate that switch and flip it was not something she considered a quality, or an attribute. That would insinuate that it was a good thing, which it was not. She considered it more of a…byproduct. A byproduct of being backed into a corner and forced to dig deep and discover what she was really capable of.

Everyone had that switch somewhere within them, she was certain. Whether or not they'd found it, or would ever find it, or would ever even think to seek it out, was another matter entirely. But she _had_ found it, and she hadn't been the same person since—she never would be. Because finding the switch comes with a price—a sacrifice of sorts. Only someone who's willing to give up something of themselves would be able to make that sacrifice. Jenna had found that she was willing to do just that—and that did not make her a stronger person than the others. It did not make her a _hero_. It made her darker than them. It made her colder.

Flipping the switch did not give her strength. It just made her disconnected from everything that made her human. It was cold and dark, but most of all, it was dead calm. And that was perhaps the scariest thing about it.

Finding the switch in her had been no easy task, but she'd done it. It had been hell, but she'd found it. She'd ventured into the darkest, coldest places within herself, and located her switch. _The_ switch. The switch that disconnected her from the emotions that would hold her back from making the coldest, darkest decisions for the sake of survival. The switch that enabled her to function on autopilot, with no other interfering factors like compassion, or fear, or love—or humanity.

The first time she'd found the switch within her, she'd been backed into a corner with no way out. It was life or death. Do or die.

Kill or be killed.

She'd found the switch, but moreover, she'd made the conscious choice to reach out and flip it, no matter how much she didn't want to. More than she didn't want to, however, she hadn't wanted to die. So she'd flipped the switch. And when it was all said and done, and she'd reached out to flip it back into place, her hands were no longer clean, and the switch was stained with blood ever since. Evidence of the choice she'd made. Evidence of the humanity she'd shed in order to survive.

Shane was wrong. She'd lived this long because she'd made a choice. She'd been able to get them out because she knew exactly where her switch was, and the blood that stained it was confirmation that she was willing to flip it, no matter the cost to the person that she'd once been. She'd been able to get them out because she had blood on her hands, and a shadow over her heart—and that sure as hell did not make her a hero. Quite the opposite, in fact.

What these people didn't know—what no one, not even Thao knew—was that she had killed to survive. More than once. Did it matter that each time it had happened had been a life or death situation? Did it matter that it was a choice between committing murder and being murdered? She didn't think so. Because the fact that she had done what they had been meaning to do made her just as guilty as them. Each of them had tried to kill her, and failed. The only difference was, Jenna had succeeded.

She ran a hand through her hair, resting her head back against the wall behind her, and worked to maintain the neutral expression on her face so as not to tip off Shane about her internal struggles. He didn't need to know the dark details of her recent past. No one did. That was her burden to bear, and no one else's. And, honestly, she was far too ashamed to let them know. Far too ashamed to reveal herself for what she truly was—a killer.

She was a shadow of her former self, with the blood of other, less successful killers on her hands. The only reason she was alive was because it had turned out that she was a better killer than they were. That was not something to boast about. That was something to lock away in the dark, cold confines of her soul in the hopes that it didn't eat her alive.

Was she sorry she'd killed them? Of course she was. She hated that she'd murdered those men, despite the fact that they would've killed her otherwise. She'd wept in remorse for her actions after the fact—remorse for the act of murder, and remorse for herself for having to commit that act. But the fact was, if she were to go back in time and be faced with those same situations once more, she'd do nothing different. When it came down to that final, pivotal moment—kill or be killed—she would chose to kill.

So being _sorry_ didn't make a difference. It was just a side-effect of her own actions, and she accepted the guilt without struggle. The guilt haunting her was the least form of punishment she deserved.

She turned her eyes upward from the floor and glanced at Shane across from her. He looked haggard and weary. Stressed. But he was not haunted, because he'd committed no atrocities that would cling to him that way. None of the others had either. Killing walkers was all they'd done, and that still troubled most of them to some degree. They were good people.

She wondered what they would think if they could see her for what she really was. Dark, cold, blood-stained. Worse—what would Thao think? It would terrify him, if he were able to fully understand. Knowing that _killed_ her.

But it was Thao who had kept her from spiraling downward even further. He'd pulled her back from the proverbial abyss, and she would never be able to repay him for that. But she'd dedicated her life to protecting his, and that was the best she could do—and she'd do it until the day she died. It was the least she owed that little boy. Her little boy. It was only because of Thao that she'd been able to feel things like love and joy again. He'd saved her as much as she'd saved him—at _least_ as much as she'd saved him.

If anyone was a hero between the two of them, it sure as hell wasn't her. It was the little boy she'd stumbled upon at the exact moment she'd needed him. It was the little boy who'd saved her from herself. The little boy who continued to save her from herself every time she looked at him.

* * *

"You fall asleep on me, girl?" Shane's voice asked.

Jenna smirked slightly despite herself, but didn't open her eyes. She'd leaned her head back against the wall and closed them to try and get her rampant thoughts back under control, all the while working to keep her expression from betraying her inner musings. She'd been going for exhausted, and she was glad that she'd apparently hit the mark.

"No," she replied, running a hand through her hair, wondering vaguely when the last time she'd run a comb through it was. "Thought you did, though."

She opened her eyes finally, seeing him smirking back at her from his own seated position against the opposite wall. For his eyes being brown, they were sure…interesting to look at. More of a clear maple color than just a flat, hazy brown shade. Huh…

She blinked slightly, snapping herself out of…whatever the hell that had been, and he laughed under his breath.

"You ain't the only one who's used to goin days without sleep, girl," he said, running a hand over his face tiredly. Jenna had to agree with him there—he was usually the one who'd been up most of the night keeping watch back at camp. He glanced at the boarded up window above the stairwell, taking note of the early morning light of dawn that was seeping through the cracks. "Better go an' get the others up an' ready to head out. Don't wanna stay here any longer 'n we have to…"

He heaved himself up to his feet and held a hand out to her. Taking a moment to marvel at the fact that she didn't feel any trace of alarm at his sudden proximity—as she would have just a week ago—Jenna let him help her up to stand.

The sound of approaching footsteps made them turn their gaze at the hallway in time to see Rick heading their way. He looked even more haggard than Shane, despite all the sleep he'd gotten. Jenna wondered how restful his night of sleep was, exactly. Sometimes, it didn't matter how much sleep you got when your mind tortured you in your vulnerable, unconscious state.

"Y'all get enough sleep?" Rick asked them, running his hand down his face in a manner similar to the way Shane just had a minute ago.

"Mhm," Jenna confirmed easily, not about to hang Shane up to dry, so to speak. "You?"

"Yeah," Rick said unconvincingly, not bothering to make the claim sound believable. What was the point, really? It was doubtful that _anyone_ had gotten a good night's sleep last night. "You ready to head out?" he asked her.

She nodded, and looked down at her blood-spattered shirt. "Yeah, just gonna go and change real quick," she said, giving the hem of her shirt a light tug by way of explanation.

With that, she grabbed her machete from the floor and headed to the arts and crafts room everyone else had crashed in last night, leaving Shane and Rick to discuss the day's plans. She smiled slightly upon seeing Dusty and Thao curled up together, both of them still deep in peaceful slumber. Well, at least someone had been able to relax last night. Carefully, so as not to wake them, or any of the other still sleeping inhabitants, Jenna pulled her bag free from where it was wedged between Dusty's back and the wall. Successfully freeing the bag, she closed the door softly behind her and headed into the next room, closing that door behind her as well.

Pulling off the gray cotton t-shirt, she examined it more thoroughly. Hmm. There wasn't too much blood on it, and while the stains had certainly set in by now, they would fade in time. No reason to toss the perfectly intact shirt when she was already living on handouts. She pulled out a red and black checkered flannel shirt—another donation from Dusty's wardrobe—and buttoned it up, rolling the sleeves up to her elbows before changing into the tattered jeans.

She laced up her shoes, her mind on the journey ahead of them. Fort Benning…was it worth the risk? She'd promised Shane that she'd stay with the group, but that had been a qualified promise—he knew that. But, she couldn't just leave the rest of them to an uncertain fate. If she parted ways with them while they headed to Fort Benning, and if something terrible were to happen to them there while she was off elsewhere and oblivious…

She shook her head, not wanting to go there. These people mattered to her. More importantly, they mattered to Thao. He liked this ragtag group, despite the discord and the obvious uneven distribution of authority—because he didn't see those things. He just saw a group of people, struggling to survive _together_, and make the most out of a dire situation.

Ever since Thao had come into her life, Jenna had begun to see the desolate world in a new light. Before him, she'd been a glass completely dry kind of person. But the more time she spent with him, and looked at things the way he did, she'd slowly come to realize that maybe the glass wasn't _completely_ empty.

She didn't trust the military anymore. The military was the _first_ thing she'd stopped trusting when the outbreak hit. Images of Prospect Street in Seattle flashed through her mind, and she snapped her eyes shut, giving her head a quick shake to dispel them. Things didn't have to be that way here, though. The _entire_ military couldn't be corrupt, right? Maybe that was an isolated incident…a horrible, isolated act of cruelty.

She shook her head again, clearing it, and picked up her bag after stuffing her dirty clothes inside. She'd promised to stick with the group. To give Fort Benning a shot. She could at least keep true to her word.

Stepping back out into the hallway, she found that T-Dog, Daryl, and Glenn were up and about, speaking in hushed tones that told Jenna some of the others must've still been sleeping. She nodded at them as she moved by them and entered the arts and crafts room again, seeing that Dusty was awake and bleary-eyed, while Thao was still sound asleep, head nestled into his makeshift pillow.

"Hey," Dusty mumbled, rubbing her hand up and down her cheek, which had been pressed onto the ground while she'd been sleeping. "How long you been awake?" she wondered with a yawn.

"A while," Jenna replied, honestly but vaguely. "Sleep alright?" she asked softly, not wanting to wake the kids up just yet.

"Yeah," Dusty sighed, rubbing her face again, her eyes scanning around the room, looking rather…lost.

Jenna couldn't shake the feeling that Dusty had woken up to the crushing realization that Jacki was gone, perhaps having been convinced by her dreams that her friend was still alive and well, and that they were back at the quarry, safe and sound. That was why Jenna loathed dreams. Good or bad, you woke up with the feeling that you'd just been punched in the stomach. Nightmares tortured you at night and you woke up only to be reminded that very real dangers were there to torture you by day. Good dreams deluded you into a false sense of security, providing you with joy and hope, or letting you relive the happy past, only for you to wake up and realize that all of it was now just a figment of your imagination or memory.

She hated dreams. Admittedly, the constant threat of danger wasn't the only thing that kept Jenna awake for days at a time. The dreams she wanted to avoid played quite a significant part in that particular dilemma.

Jenna patted Dusty's shoulder gently, wordlessly expressing her sympathy and offering solace. The girl met her gaze for a moment and nodded, offering up the semblance of a smile, before looking back down at Thao's sleeping figure.

"Should we wake 'im up?" she wondered quietly. "Are we headin out soon?"

"As soon as the vehicle situation is worked out, but I wanna let him sleep a little more," Jenna replied in a hushed tone, looking around at all the sleeping figures in the room. All the men had cleared out—she wondered if Dale was with them, even though she hadn't seen him in the hallway—and the women and children lay on the floor in various places, sleeping. None of them looked very comfortable.

"Vehicle situation?" Dusty inquired, puzzled.

"Get the gas out of the cars we're leaving and into the cars we're keeping," Jenna answered. "The RV's gonna be pretty crowded."

"Hm," Dusty hummed in agreement, keeping her tone hushed so as not to wake anyone. "You think that army base is even up an' runnin?" she asked, her voiced laced heavily with doubt. "Probably jus' gonna be another damn dead end, if you ask me."

Jenna had never heard Dusty so pessimistic before, and couldn't help but to think that Jacki's death had a lot to do with it. T-Dog—while not pessimistic, exactly—was in a similar boat. Rather than being overcome with doubt, he seemed to have just…stopped caring. He'd agreed to Fort Benning last night without a second thought, not because he was on board, but because he just didn't care. It didn't matter to him where they went, or what their plan was.

Jacki's death had broken his heart. The fact that she'd _chosen_ death had broken his heart. And that was something that Jenna couldn't draw any parallels to—no one she'd known had chosen to die; they'd just died.

"Maybe," agreed Jenna in response to Dusty's words. "But it won't hurt to check it out, in any case."

Dusty looked far from convinced, but she didn't choose to voice her doubts that time.

Thao stirred between them, and he opened his eyes sleepily, looking around at the room in slight puzzlement before turning his big black eyes up to Jenna. She smiled softly, running her fingers though his sleek black hair. He looked well-rested, which was always reassuring. She hated when he wasn't able to get enough sleep.

"Hi, buddy," she greeted in a hushed tone. "How'd you sleep?"

"Good," he answered, pushing himself up and crawling into her lap, wrapping his arms around her middle. "Are we leaving here, too?"

She sighed slightly. This boy was on the move far too much—a failing on her part. She really should've tried to find a more permanent location long ago, to keep him more grounded. This constant transient lifestyle was not at all ideal for such a young child.

"Yeah, we are," she answered, running a hand up and down his small back soothingly. "We're looking for a new place."

"I liked the other place," he said with a little sigh. "The games were fun. Why did it blow up?" he wondered.

She deliberated on how to answer that truthfully in a way that he would understand. "It was just…its time to go," she decided. "That building was a special kind of building. It had a lot of secret stuff inside that no one's supposed to know about. And when it was time for it to go, it had to make sure none of that secret stuff got out."

He mulled over that for a minute before asking, "Did Jacki take the secret stuff to heaven?"

Her heart skipped a beat and her eyes cut over to Dusty, who winced silently, biting down on her lip to keep from crying. Jenna gave her hand a light squeeze—it was all she could do—and Dusty nodded briefly before getting to her feet and exiting the room.

"You know what, I think she did," Jenna answered Thao then. "Her and Dr. Jenner took the secret stuff to heaven with them, to keep it safe."

"She's in heaven, with my mom and dad?" he wondered curiously.

_Poor baby boy… _Jenna closed her eyes, suppressing an aggrieved sigh while she stroked his hair gently. "I bet she is," she answered, smiling slightly for his benefit as she reached over to his backpack and unzipped the front pocket, pulling out the small framed photograph and handing it to him. "I bet they're talking about what a brave boy you are."

He studied the picture, and she did too over his shoulder. A young couple with a _very_ little Thao standing between them unsteadily, each of them holding him up by one hand on either side of him. Proud parents of a very happy little boy. The love this small family had was obvious, as was the adoration for their only child. And that was what led Jenna to believe that his parents truly had been lost—that there was no way this same couple could have abandoned their little boy. Real parents didn't abandon their children, and from the looks of it, Thao's mother and father had been very real parents.

"I was really little in here," he noted, pointing at himself in the picture.

Jenna laughed lightly. "Yeah, you sure were," she agreed, kissing his head. "You're getting bigger every day, buddy."

He grinned and gave a happy little squirm, obviously pleased by that bit of news, and she laughed quietly again, glad that he seemed to be in good spirits today, despite everything. Sometimes, she was glad that he was so young and still relatively oblivious to the very real travesties that surrounded them. While things would certainly be easier for her if he was older, and more capable of looking after himself, she was glad that his young age granted him a certain measure of bliss.

Dusty entered the room again, looking to have collected herself, for which Jenna was glad. She hated to see the girl so shaken and grief-stricken.

"Rick an' Shane want us to keep watch in the alley while they get the gas outta the van an' the truck," she said to Jenna.

"Alright, but whose gonna keep watch here?" she asked, nodding at the others, who were still sleeping.

"Rick wants em to wake up now," she explained.

Jenna nodded then, glad that they were going to be getting moving soon, it looked like. She and Dusty gently roused the others—they'd hesitated to wake Andrea, neither of them wanting to take on that particular duty. Thankfully, the woman seemed to have been stirred awake by the movement around the room, and that was rendered unnecessary. She looked sour as ever, shooting spiteful glares all around.

_Everyone grieves in their own way,_ Jenna reminded herself internally. Be that as it may, if the woman snapped at Thao even once, she'd regret it.

Once the others had all been woken gently, Jenna and Dusty exited out of the building, both of them with their bags slung over their shoulders, and Jenna keeping Thao tucked securely into her side. The men were all out in the alley, Daryl going around with the pickaxe like he had back at camp, making sure none of the bodies that littered the area would be getting up any time soon.

"Wait in here, okay?" said Jenna to Thao, sitting him down at the table in the RV with hers and Dusty's bags. "I'll be in with you soon."

He nodded and she handed him the little spherical maze toy he'd taken from the rec. room of the CDC before exiting the vehicle and closing the door behind her.

"Jus' up there," Rick directed Jenna and Dusty, pointing to the exit of the alley at the left, where they'd entered from. "T-Dog an' Dale got the other side."

She nodded and rested her machete over her shoulder, walking with Dusty toward the other end of the alleyway. Dusty held her Taurus out in front of her with both hands carefully, keeping it pointed toward the ground while they walked. Hmm. They would need to see about getting her a weapon that wasn't bullet-operated, at least until she was able to learn to use that gun.

"The safety's on," Jenna told her in an undertone while they moved down the alley.

Dusty looked down at her gun and switched off the safety. "That'd probably help, huh?" she muttered with a laugh.

Jenna didn't have time to respond, however, for just as they came upon the end of the alley to keep watch on the street, a tall figure stepped out from around the corner, making them both leap backward in the next instant.

Dusty had her revolver raised and Jenna had her machete prepared to strike immediately, her heart racing in surprise at the appearance of the stranger—whom looked to be just as startled as they were, if not more. He shot his hands up in a show of retreat almost as quickly as they'd raised their weapons, and his blue eyes were wide in fright.

"_Whoa, whoa, whoa!_" he said in one rapid breath, taking a stride backward, hands still up. "Not dead, not dead!"

Dusty dropped her Taurus then, sighing out a breath of relief and exasperation combined, rolling her eyes. Jenna was slower to lower her weapon, keeping her eyes locked onto the young man before them.

"What do you want?" Jenna asked in a quiet, sharp tone.

He moved his eyes between the two of them, hands still up, still on his guard. "Jus' lookin for a place to stay," he said then, speaking rapidly and nervously. "Got separated from my brother last night, an' I can't find 'im. Lookin for a car too, 'cause ours got mobbed." He nodded over their shoulder, and the sound of approaching footsteps told Jenna the others had seen the situation. "Y'all ditchin yours?"

"Yeah," answered Dusty easily. "But we're takin the fuel, so you're on your own there."

"Who the hell are you?" Rick demanded sharply as he and Shane came upon the scene, both of them with their guns raised on the young man.

"Russell, my name's Russell," he answered quickly, hands going up a little higher. "Not lookin for any trouble, man. Jus' a place to stay."

Jenna and Dusty stepped aside to let Shane and Rick take their place in front of Russell, and Jenna eyed him up and down intently. There was a Browning BDA tucked into the back of his belt, and his blue shirt had a large red smear on the right side. His face was covered in dirt in some places, along with his shirt and jeans, and his sandy blond hair was equally dirty and disheveled. His shoes were shredded almost completely—he'd either spent most of the previous day and night running for his life, or he hadn't bothered to opt for a more durable pair when he should have.

This guy had certainly been through the wringer.

"I wouldn't stay here if I were you," Rick advised, holstering his Python, relaxing. Shane, like Jenna, was slower to lower his Mossberg. "Nothin here but a building full of bodies. You'll wanna be lookin somewhere else."

"Yeah, no problem," Russell agreed immediately, lowering his hands slowly, eyeing both Rick and Shane warily. "You mind lettin me have that truck if you're leavin it?"

"No fuel in it," Shane told him, still eying him up and down. "We're takin that to get the hell outta the city."

Russell ran a hand through his hair a little nervously. "Hell, look—could…could y'all gimmie a ride?" he asked hopefully. "I don't want any trouble, you can hold onto my gun," he assured the two of them quickly, seeing the expression on their faces. "But I'm lookin to get outta the city too, is all."

Hmm. He was certainly very willing to roll over. Well, she couldn't blame him really; two men with guns standing in his face in near hostility—rolling over seemed to be the best way to go here, in his position.

"He lost his brother last night," Dusty informed Shane and Rick from her position at Jenna's side. "An' his car."

Rick and Shane exchanged a loaded glance, both of them deliberating and coming to a silent agreement before nodding and looking back at Russell. The unguarded hopeful expression on his face was almost painful to look at.

"Alright," said Rick eventually. "But you're handin over your gun, like you said."

Russell nodded and pulled the Browning from his belt, holding it out by the barrel for them to take. Shane took it and checked the safety before tucking it into his own belt.

"Sorry 'bout the gun in the face," Dusty said to him with an apologetic smirk.

Russell grinned back easily, not offended in the slightest. "Don't worry about it, girl," he assured her. "Never know who you can trust these days, ya know?"

_Isn't _that_ the truth?_ Jenna thought wryly, resting her machete over her shoulder again. Maybe Russell wouldn't be so hard to get along with. He seemed nice enough, and relatively harmless. And he'd known well enough to back down immediately when he'd been drawn on like a paper target at a shooting range. Survival skills.

"C'mon," Rick said to Russell, jerking his head in the direction of the cars. "You can help us get these cars ready."

"Thank you," said Russell with a sigh of relief. "Thank God y'all are givin me a ride. I can't fix up a car to save my life."

Well, perhaps Jenna had spoken a little too soon.

Shane nodded at she and Dusty while Rick and Russell walked down the alley. "Y'all good?" he asked them.

They nodded. "We're good," they said together.

He smirked and headed off after Rick, Mossberg over his shoulder. Jenna caught herself watching him go just a bit longer than what was necessary, and then gave her head a quick shake to clear it, turning her attention back to the task at hand. Guard duty. That was the important thing. Making sure they didn't get eaten, or attacked. _Focus, you idiot._

"Shoot, he's hot," Dusty muttered under her breath, still looking down the alley.

"Who, Shane?" Jenna asked with a breath of laughter.

"Naw, _Russell_," Dusty said. "Good thing we didn't accidentally kill 'im."

Jenna laughed under her breath again and shook her head. Yes, Russell was attractive, but on the most basic, generic level she'd ever seen. Jenna, having always been a bit of an oddball, had never found those types of guys as attractive as most women seemed to. They were attractive, but in a very…boring sort of way. They didn't hold her interest.

"He's all yours," she said to Dusty, scanning her eyes up and down the street before them, watching for walkers—or any other pedestrians.

Dusty giggled. "You better not go forgettin you gave me your word on that," she mock-threatened.

Jenna smirked. "If we had a Bible, I'd put my hand on it and make a vow," she assured the girl. "Just go easy on the poor guy—he's jumpier than a rabbit on crack."

Dusty giggled again, and Jenna had to laugh. At least she was in better spirits now.

In all honesty, Jenna wasn't thoroughly convinced about taking in Russell while they headed out on the road—he was a stranger, and male. But, when she thought about it, she'd been taken in too, and it had certainly turned things around for Thao and herself. She'd decided to try and relocate the person she'd once been, after all. Russell was outnumbered in any case, so any threat he may or may not present was drastically minimized.

She really needed to stop being so hostile. Where had that gotten her? Right where she didn't want to be. She had to start giving people a chance, if she wanted any hope of redeeming herself. After all, she'd been given a chance, and she was the one with blood on her hands.


	24. The Herd in the Graveyard

**Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever, own The Walking Dead. Because Robert Kirkman doesn't want to share. **

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and suggestive themes.

* * *

_"All it takes is a second and your whole life can get turned upside down."_

_—Jodi Picoult_

* * *

The Herd in the Graveyard

Jenna sat on the bench seat in the back of the RV as it rolled along, the rumble of Daryl's motorcycle a familiar and soothing sound in the background. She was delving into _Oliver Twist_, her legs stretched out along the bench seat with Thao nestled comfortably between them. He was busy playing with the spherical maze, concentrating hard on the task.

T-Dog was seated more toward the back, leaning back against the wall and gazing blankly out the window. Russell had ended up riding in the Cherokee with the Grimes' and the Peletiers'—much to Dusty's chagrin—since Carl seemed to have taken a liking to the newcomer, whom had really been very helpful, despite his obvious ignorance of anything to do with the workings of cars, which Jenna found to be a little odd. Didn't most men by their late twenties know at least a _few_ things about cars?

Andrea sat in the very back, away from the others, sulking. Jenna was just glad that she'd stopped glaring at everyone with that sour look on her face for the moment—and then mentally kicked herself for being so petty. The woman was still grieving.

Up near the front, Dusty sat at the small table across from Shane, watching in curiosity as he cleaned his Glock 17.

"It all looks so damn _complicated_," she noted eventually, breaking the silence permeating the RV.

Shane smirked slightly. "The trick is gettin all these pieces back together the same way," he told her. "I can clean yours," he offered, "show ya how."

"Alright," she said, and pulled her small Taurus revolver from the bag of guns at their feet.

He took it and pushed the cylinder out, emptying the rounds and stowing them safely into his pocket so they didn't roll off the table. Then he snapped the cylinder back into place and aimed the revolver, testing it out.

"Nice piece," he commented, lowering it again.

"It was my mom's," said Dusty, leaning on the table. "She bought it after she left my dad an' we moved out—daddy was a mean drunk," she said by way of explanation with a shrug.

Jenna felt a pang of sympathy for Dusty.

"Smart woman, your mother," said Shane sincerely. "She ever teach you how to shoot it?"

"Not really," Dusty admitted with a light laugh. "It was jus' there in case we needed it."

He nodded, understanding, and proceeded to show her how to properly clean her revolver. Jenna returned her attention to her book, and tried not to dwell on the fact that they were getting closer and closer to an army base—slowly but surely—and reminded herself that she'd agreed to give this a shot.

"Oh, jeez…" muttered Dale from the driver's seat.

"Ah, no…" sighed Glenn from where he sat up at the passenger's seat next to him.

Jenna looked up from her book and leaned to the side to peer out the windshield up front. At first she didn't see anything that would give them any reason for distress, but then she saw the overturned semi-truck on the road, along with quite the perpetually frozen traffic jam. Getting the large RV through that mess was going to be a slow process.

Shane got up out of his seat as the RV rolled to a slow stop, and T-Dog followed suit, both of them taking a closer look through the windshield.

"See a way through?" Dale asked Daryl through the driver's side window.

Jenna didn't hear a response from Daryl, but when they started moving forward again, she assumed it had been a "yes." They crept along slowly, maneuvering carefully around the cars that littered the highway.

"Maybe we should just go back," suggested Glenn, examining the map. "There's an interstate bypass—"

"We can't spare the fuel," Dale said.

Jenna looked out through the window again, and silently noted that she had to disagree with the old man that time—there were plenty of cars out there to syphon fuel from.

"Can we even get through here?" Dusty wondered skeptically as they moved further into the tangle of abandoned cars, which were congregated so closely together further up ahead that they blocked most of the road.

Before anyone could answer her, a loud hissing sound emitted from the engine of the RV, and soon there was smoke and steam spraying out of it, blocking the view of the windshield. The hissing was replaced by loud screeching, and Dale cringed at the noise as he rolled the RV to a stop once more.

He cut the engine and exited the vehicle, Shane and T-Dog following after him. Jenna stood up from the bench seat and picked up her machete, gesturing for Thao to follow along with her as she exited the RV with Glenn, Dusty, and Andrea, looking around at the area carefully.

"I said it, didn't I say it?" said Dale irritably, making his way over to the engine. "A thousand times. Dead in the water."

"Problem, Dale?" Shane asked calmly, his eyes also scanning the area, Mossberg in hand.

"Oh, just a small matter of bein stuck in the middle of nowhere with no hope of—" Dale griped, and then cut himself off as he looked around at their surroundings as though for the first time. "Okay," he admitted as Rick, Russell, Lori, Carol, and the kids joined them. "That was dumb."

"Can't find a radiator hose here," Shane mused sarcastically.

"Whole buncha stuff we can find," said Daryl, having dismounted his bike and proceeding to pick through the trunk of an open car.

"Syphon more fuel from these cars," Jenna suggested, nodding at the abundance of vehicles that weren't doing anyone any good. "Get us to that bypass Glenn pointed out."

"Maybe some water," said Carol hopefully, her arms around Sophia's slight frame.

"Food," Glenn added in a similarly hopeful tone.

"This is a graveyard," said Lori, which certainly snared everyone's attention, as they all paused what they were doing to give her a questioning look. "I don't know how I feel about this," she said when no one made a reply.

Jenna just turned around and set to work at another car nearby, opening the trunk and scanning through the suitcase she found in the back. She didn't know what Lori's problem was, or perhaps the woman was just naïve to the state of the world outside of a protected setting. The whole world was a graveyard, and leaving the things that could be of use to their survival behind for the sake of respect for the dead was foolhardy. And honestly, where the hell did she think all the supplies Glenn brought back to camp had come from?

"C'mon, y'all," Shane urged after a moment, breaking the tense silence that had hushed over them. "Gather what you can, an' stay sharp."

"I'ma work on the fuel," Daryl told Rick and Shane while everyone got to work, heading in different directions.

Rick nodded in agreement. "Take someone with ya," he suggested.

"Alright," said Daryl with a shrug, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder, and he nodded at Jenna. "C'mon, Minnie. Bring Little Man."

_Minnie? _She wondered, puzzled and amused, and then it hit her. _Minnie Mouse—right. _She nodded, laughing under her breath, and stepped away from the SUV she'd been scavenging from.

"Guess he means you," noted Shane amusedly at her left as she passed him and Rick.

"I doubt he means you," she said with a snort of laughter.

Shane and Rick chuckled amusedly behind her as she made her way, and T-Dog handed her the hose as she went. She took it in her right hand, and patted the pocket of her jeans with her left, gesturing for Thao to stay at her side. He held onto her pocket obligingly, and together they moved to follow after Daryl, who was carrying one of the gas cans.

He pried open the gas cover of an old Dodge, and she set to work with syphoning the gas from it and into the can.

The others got started picking for supplies in the meantime—Russell following Dusty around like a loyal canine; apparently that attraction was mutual—while Dale and Glenn worked to repair the RV's engine. Jenna had just emptied the remaining fuel from the Dodge when she heard Dale say, "ask Jenna," in an annoyed tone.

"Jenna?" Glenn asked then, his voice sounding a bit uncertain.

She straightened up to stand again, raising her arm to block the glaring sun from her eyes. "Yeah?" she replied.

"What screwdriver do I use to get the radiator hose out?" he questioned.

She laughed under her breath, though not loudly enough for Glenn to hear her. "Flathead," she told him.

"Thanks," he said, both grateful and rueful in the same tone.

She turned her attention back to her own task, and waited for Daryl to pry open another opening to another fuel tank.

"Ya make a better man than most of the men here, Minnie Mouse," said Daryl as she got the fuel flowing from the Oldsmobile to the gas can.

She snorted lightly, rolling her eyes. "I was raised by a man, so I guess that makes sense."

He huffed a breath of laughter, leaning against the side of the car with his crossbow slung lazily over his shoulder. She stood to lean against the car as well, waiting for the tank to empty. Looking down, she caught sight of her attire; red flannel button-down, tattered blue jeans, Timberland boots. That morning, Dusty had joked that she looked like a tiny lumberjack, and Jenna couldn't argue with her—which had made them both laugh, until Shane had asked them what was so funny, which they could only reply, "Nothing," through another bout of laughter. It had taken them a little time to settle back down, but Jenna didn't mind—it was good to see Dusty laugh again.

Thao stood about ten feet in front of her, stretching up on his toes to peer into the window of a stained Station Wagon. Jenna looked over his head to gaze into the window as well, checking to make sure there were no dead bodies in the car. That was not something she wanted Thao to be examining so closely.

"What'dya see in there, Little Man?" Daryl asked him, taking Jenna by mild surprise. Daryl didn't seem to like kids very much.

Thao lowered back down to his feet and turned to look back at Daryl and Jenna. "There are tools in there, I think," he replied. "Under the seat."

"Oh yeah?" Jenna asked, and Thao nodded.

"Lemmie take a look," said Daryl, moving toward the car.

Thao moved back to Jenna's side and watched curiously as Daryl opened the car door, leaning in and rummaging around. Sure enough, when he stood up straight again, he was holding a small tool kit in his left hand.

"Nice find, kid," Daryl complimented, and Thao grinned up at him.

Jenna smirked and ruffled his hair. She looked to her right to see T-Dog up ahead of them, picking for supplies. He didn't like to socialize very much anymore, since Jacki had died with Jenner. He missed her, that much was clear. Jenna just hoped that he was able to move forward eventually—the grieving process took a lot out of a person.

The tank emptied, and she pulled the hose back out, spinning the cap on the can that was now half full. In due time, they might just have been able to gather enough to fill all three cans they'd brought with them.

"Get down," Daryl urged in a hushed tone suddenly, and Jenna's eyes flew up to him in alarm. "Get under the car," he instructed quickly, raising his crossbow as he gazed back toward the RV behind them.

Looking over her shoulder, Jenna saw the cause for alarm. Down where most of the others had been pulling supplies just a moment ago, a huge mob of walkers was approaching, seemingly coming out of nowhere. Her heart plummeted to her stomach—she'd survived this type of situation before, but never in a group setting—and she pulled Thao over to the side of the Station Wagon and pushed him down.

"Daryl," she hissed suddenly, and he spun his head back around to face her. "T-Dog," she told him urgently, remembering.

He looked over his shoulder where T-Dog had wandered away in the distance, and then back toward the slowly progressing mob that was far enough away that they hadn't been spotted yet.

"I got 'im," Daryl said in a gruff undertone. "Stay down an' stay quiet."

Having no reason to argue with him, Jenna pulled Thao under the Station Wagon with her, moving so that she was above the child with him protected by her body—if worse came to worse, the walkers would reach her before they could get their hands—or jaws—on him, and someone would be able to save him before it was too late. Looking down at Thao, who peered up at her with wide eyes, she put a finger over her lips, reminding him to stay quiet, and he nodded quickly. She put her hand over his eyes, getting him to close them, and pulled the gun from her belt, preparing to fire if she needed to. She couldn't do much with a machete in these closed-quarters.

It was eerily silent while she waited for the mob to reach them, praying to God that they would go undetected.

Eventually, the shuffling movement of their progression increased in volume, and Jenna knew they had reached her and Thao. She stilled automatically and her eyes darted back down to Thao's face, thankful that his eyes were still closed. She put her finger over the trigger of her Beretta and watched—on high alert—as the parade of walkers shuffled by the Station Wagon on both sides, completely surrounding the vehicle.

She watched their feet go by in a painstakingly slow processes, and she prayed with all of her might that one of them wouldn't stumble over something at the wrong moment and spot them under the car.

Jenna's heart pounded on in her chest, and on her right side, she could feel Thao's heart pounding out an accompanying rhythm.

A walker stumbled into the side of the Station Wagon, jostling the car, and Thao's body startled beneath hers, though he remained absolutely silent. His eyes shot open, locking with hers, and she kissed his forehead, trying to reassure him. Before he could turn his head and see the danger that was so near, she covered his eyes with her left hand, getting him to close them once more.

After what seemed to have been an eternity, and what Jenna was sure had aged her by at least ten years, the horde of walkers passed, and eventually, even the shuffling of their clumsy feet couldn't be heard anymore.

Just as she was about to edge over to the side of the car and take a look around, a high-pitched scream sounded off in the distance behind her, back where the others were.

The screaming continued for a few more seconds, and Jenna recognized the voice to belong to Sophia—and her heart sank sharply. Dear God, what was happening to that little girl? When the terrified cries ended, Jenna could no longer hide beneath the Station Wagon. She had to know what was happening to Sophia.

She moved out from beneath the car, scanned around to be sure no walkers were nearby, and then called Thao out after her. The child scrambled out from under the car and she hoisted him over her shoulder in a fireman's carry in the next moment, running back toward the others.

Just as she arrived, she spotted Rick hopping over the guardrail and rolling down the slope into the woods that bordered the highway.

"Oh, Lori!" Carol cried frantically as the rest of them sped over to the side of the road where Rick had just disappeared. "_There's two walkers after my baby!_"

Lori wrapped her arms around Carol from behind, stopping her from jumping over the guardrail too, as Jenna came to a stop at Dusty's side. She pulled Thao down into her arms, holding him securely on her hip, and peered into the woods, trying to see any sign of Sophia or Rick…or one of the two walkers.

Carol continued to struggle against Lori's hold, and Shane caught her just as she broke free, stopping her from rushing blindly after her daughter. It only took a few moments for the woman to stop fighting and just break down and sob into his chest.

"Shhh…" he soothed, holding her tightly and swaying her back and forth gently.

It took quite a while for Carol to stop crying, and Jenna would have been relieved, if it didn't seem like Carol had merely shut down rather than calmed down. She stood leaning against a car at the side of the road, staring off into the trees, not willing to move from the spot she'd last seen her daughter. The rest of them stood around in silence, some of them keeping watch, all of them waiting and hoping—hoping desperately. But the longer Rick and Sophia remained missing, the more reason they had for worry.

Jenna had taken Thao into the RV after Daryl and Shane had removed a walker from inside it—which Andrea had apparently taken down on her own. (_Chalk one up for Andrea,_ she'd thought, impressed.) Making sure he had his toy to keep him entertained, she exited the RV, not wanting to let him remain out in the open. Not after all that had happened.

She now stood leaning against one of the abundant vehicles beside Dusty—and Russell, of course, who wasn't nearly as jumpy as he'd been back in the alley before they'd headed out of the city—while they waited, tension hanging thick in the air, for any sign of Rick and Sophia's return.

Shane had hopped up to stand on the roof of an old Chevy to get a better vantage point, and Daryl had done the same, standing on the hood of an SUV. Lori sat upon the hood of the car Carol was leaning against, running her hand across her shoulders soothingly. Carl stood nearby, looking anxious, both for his father and for his friend.

Eventually, the sound of rustling bushes caught their attention, and they spun around, staring into the dense foliage Rick had rushed into at least an hour ago. Everyone inched forward, peering intently into the trees.

"Lori!" Rick's voice hissed. "Lori!"

"We're right here!" she called back, hopping down from the car and rushing over to the guardrail at the sound of her husband's voice.

Rick scrambled up the slope to the side of the road, and Shane helped him climb back over the guardrail. Sophia was nowhere to be seen, and Jenna closed her eyes as a sharp stab of regret assaulted her chest.

Rick looked around the area searchingly, which confused Jenna. When Carol began to weep again, understanding colored his face, and he ran his hands through his hair. Whatever had happened, it was clear that things had not turned out the way he'd intended them to.

He cursed under his breath, looked around in frustration, searching for inspiration, Jenna guessed.

"Alright," he said eventually, "alright, this is what we're gonna do," he told them determinedly. "I'm goin back to look for her—Shane, Daryl, Glenn, an' Russell, I'm gonna need y'all to come with me. The rest of you stay here and wait for us to get back."

The others nodded, and Daryl hopped down from the hood of the SUV to join the other men. Glenn was given a pump-action shotgun while the Browning was returned to Russell, and they made their way back over the guardrail.

Shane paused and locked his gaze with Jenna's while she stood with the others to see them off. "Keep an eye out," he told her intently.

She nodded, and they disappeared into the trees, leaving the rest of them waiting.

After she and Dusty had managed to convince T-Dog to head into the RV to lie down—he'd lost a considerable amount of blood from his injury during that close call with the swarm, and he was a bit unsteady—Jenna kept watch over the area with Dale's help from his lookout's position at the roof of the RV. Andrea had gone back inside after changing out of her blood-covered clothes, so that left Jenna with only Lori, Carol, and Carl to keep an eye on. Dusty had taken her machete to help her keep watch, on her guard, and Jenna held her Beretta out just in case.

The day had started out being one of the first good ones they'd had in a while. And now, in a matter of moments, everything had slipped back into tumult.


	25. Hope in the Wind

**Disclaimer: Sadly, The Walking Dead does not belong to me. This is purely for entertainment purposes.**

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and suggestive themes.

* * *

_"But hopes are shy birds flying at a great distance seldom reached by the best of guns."_  
_—John James Audubon_

* * *

Hope in the Wind

Almost another full hour had passed by the time Shane, Glenn, and Russell returned, sans Rick, Daryl, or Sophia.

Shane spoke to Lori and Carol in calm, soothing tones, working, Jenna could see, to keep them from panicking. Soon after, he made sure they were all busy with scavenging for supplies, and Jenna assumed he was trying to keep them occupied to stave off the encroaching dread that was sure to make itself known eventually.

Soon they were pulling supplies and moving cars out of the road. Dusty, Russell, and Glenn had taken over the task of syphoning more fuel, and Lori and Carol rummaged through the trunk of a car near the guardrail, seeing as Carol wasn't keen on moving from that spot. The sun steadily lowered toward the horizon while they worked. Jenna was glad for the drop in temperature, but she wished it could have dropped a bit faster. She'd wiped her face and neck with her bandana more times than she could count.

She helped Shane push a large SUV off the road, guiding the steering wheel while he used the Peletiers' Jeep Cherokee to shove it along. She stepped back when the SUV reached the divide in the highway and let it roll downward, colliding with another, bringing it to a stop.

"Why aren't we all out there lookin?" Carol asked Dale, approaching him as he worked on the engine of the RV. "Why are we movin cars?"

"Well, we have to clear enough room so I can get the RV turned around as soon as it's running," Dale replied explanatorily. "Now that we have fuel we can double back to a bypass that Glenn flagged on the map."

Shane approached them, having parked the Jeep behind the RV, shotgun in hand. His face and neck were covered in dirt and sweat—evidence of just how rough the day had turned out to be.

"Turnin back's gonna be easier 'n tryna move through this mess," he commented, looking around at the tangle of cars in front of them.

"We're not goin anywhere until my daughter gets back," Carol said adamantly.

Lori gave her a comforting pat on the arm. "That goes without sayin," she murmured in a gentle tone.

"Rick an' Daryl, they're on it," Shane assured her, "okay? Jus' a matter of time," he said, also patting her shoulder.

"Couldn't be soon enough for me," grumbled Andrea as she approached, tossing a bottle of water to Glenn at Jenna's left, who had joined them when he and the others returned with another filled gas can. Carol glanced over at the woman and then walked away with Lori. "I'm still freaked out from that herd that passed us by—or whatever you'd call it," she said, taking a long drink of water from her own bottle.

"Yeah, what was that?" said Glenn, bewildered. "All of them just marching along like that?"

Jenna shrugged. "They do that sometimes," she said.

"You've seen that before?" Glenn asked.

She nodded. "Yeah, a few times," she replied, recalling one particular moment of high-tension back in California. "Never exactly been caught in the middle of one before, though."

"Herd," said Shane with a small chuckle. "That sounds about right…" he said thoughtfully. "Now, we've seen it, the night camp got attacked, just a wonderin pack, only fewer," he reminded them, and Glenn nodded solemnly. Shane sighed and then cleared his throat. "Okay, c'mon people—still got a lot to do. Let's go."

Jenna swallowed a long drink of water and passed the bottle to Dusty before the two of them—with Russell in tow—went off to pull more supplies.

"So, where're you from?" he asked Jenna amiably while they searched. "Dusty said you're from the West Coast."

"Seattle," she answered, and for the sake of being polite, she ventured, "how about you?"

"Hapeville, not far from Atlanta," he answered. "You musical? Dusty here said you play the piano," he added conversationally.

_Did she? _Jenna wondered wryly. "Yeah, a little bit," she answered, peering into a car they were passing, and not seeing anything of value to be scavenged.

"How long you been playin?" he wondered, and she was _really_ regretting answering his first question now that this tirade had ensued. "Don't mean to brag, but I play a mean guitar, same as Dusty here."

Jenna looked toward Dusty then, ignoring Russell. "I didn't know you played," she said with a slight grin.

Dusty shrugged shyly. "Yeah, been playin since I was a kid," she informed. "Used to work at Rody's Music store in Savannah."

"This one's full," Russell said, gesturing to the car they had just come upon—a shiny blue Camry—and Dusty began rummaging through the backseat while Jenna searched the trunk with Russell keeping watch.

Jenna stifled the urge to be rude and tell him that he could go and pick through cars elsewhere because they didn't need his protection. But, she held that comment back and let him proceed with his manly duties. Whatever made him feel better. Dusty seemed to like him—and he seemed to like her at least as much—and just because Jenna found him mildly annoying didn't give her the excuse to bite his head off.

"Hey, look," said Dusty. "The little guy might like these." She pulled two graphic novels from the Spiderman backpack that lay on the floor of the car.

She handed them to Jenna, who flipped through them, recognizing them after a moment. They were the first two volumes of the _Bone_ series by Jeff Smith—the boy she used to babysit as a teenager had loved these stories, and he'd only been a few years older than Thao. Well, she had her own books; it was only fair that her boy had some of his own too.

"Thanks, these are great," said Jenna smiling. "Thao'll love these."

"Thao," said Russell, testing out the name. "He your kid, or…?"

Jenna recalled what Shane had said last night, and deliberated. "In a way, he is now," she answered as they returned to the RV to add their findings to the growing stock they'd acquired so far.

She entered the RV, finding Thao sitting at the table with his spherical maze, thoroughly engrossed. Thankfully, most of the blood from Andrea's struggle earlier had been cleaned away.

"Hey, bud," she said, setting the comics on the table in front of him. "Dusty found these for you. Make sure you tell her thanks, okay?"

He nodded, setting down the toy and pulling one of the colorful comics toward him, intrigued. She smirked and ruffled his hair before exiting the RV again, seeing that he would be very well occupied one way or another.

Russell had Dusty very engaged in conversation, and from the looks of things, an extra person would be a bit of an intrusion. Jenna didn't really see the man's appeal, but she supposed that there weren't many options to choose from these days. _Slim pickins_, a southerner would say—maybe. She really needed to brush up on her southern if she wanted to keep up with Dusty and the others.

Not wanting to interrupt Dusty, Jenna looked around at the area, trying to decide where to look next. She recalled the tool kit Thao had found, and wondered what had become of it.

She scouted up ahead, working her way back to the Station Wagon she and Thao had taken refuge under, scanning the area for danger all the while. Sure enough, the small, red metal case was lying on the asphalt beside the car, and she picked it up, opening it to see what tools it contained. It looked similar to the little tool box Danny had used to work on his dad's BMW in the garage of his parents' house back in Seattle on the weekends. She smiled fondly, and started making her way back toward the RV.

On her way, she noticed Shane leaning over the engine of a green Hyundai. It looked like he'd already emptied the contents of the vehicle, and she assumed he was fixing up the car for himself. She couldn't blame him—the RV was extremely crowded. If it wasn't such a drag on fuel, she might've fixed one up for herself as well, as long as the keys were already included in the vehicle. Unless Daryl knew how to hotwire them.

"Need help?" she asked him as she approached after he'd sighed in frustration, straightening back up to look down at the engine.

He looked up at her. "Know anythin about fixin up an engine?" he asked, smirking sardonically.

"Other than replacing sparkplugs, gaskets, alternator belts, and radiator hoses, no," she said honestly as she came to a stop in front of the engine next to him, "but maybe you can do something with these," she offered, holding out the tool kit.

His brows raised in surprise. "Where'd you get that?" he wondered.

"Thao found it in a car," she said. "Just before the herd came through."

"Nice find," he admired, accepting the tool kit from her. "Thank you." She nodded simply, and looked around, scanning for danger. "Sparkplugs, huh?" he inquired somewhat amusedly, fixing a socket to the ratchet. "Your boy Danny teach you that?"

She smirked and leaned against the side of the engine to watch him work. She could hardly resist the chance to watch an engine getting worked on. "No, that was my dad," she corrected. "I had to help him replace all four sparkplugs in my little Honda Accord in high school. Apparently, they're not supposed to be drenched in oil." He chuckled lightly, proceeding with working on the engine again. "The radiator hose I learned from Danny," she conceded.

He chuckled again. "Can I ask you somethin?"

"Don't you always?" she asked wryly, flicking at a fly that landed on her knee, sending it zigzagging away.

He gave her a sardonic smirk. "Alright, smartass," he shot back with a laugh. "I'm just wonderin if you spent _any_ amount of time around other women growin up."

She snorted lightly. "When my mom was pregnant with me, my dad was _really_ hoping for a boy," she explained. "He got me instead, so he made it work. My brother didn't come along until four years after that, so the groundwork had already been laid out, so to speak."

He laughed outright then, and she had to laugh with him. "That explains a lot," he noted.

"I'll bet," she said with a smirk.

"You know," he began again, beginning to work the accelerator pump back into place, and though he was leaned over the engine again and his face was out of view, she could definitely hear the smirk in his tone, "I may ask a lotta questions, but no one said you had to answer em."

Huh. She hadn't even given any thought to that before now.

"I'll keep that in mind," she said with a laugh, watching him make minor adjustments here and there to the engine. Sitting stranded on the highway for weeks had taken a bit of a toll on the vehicle, but it wasn't irredeemable. "But as far as questions go, Russell sure is giving even you a run for your money," she added wryly.

Shane huffed a breath of laughter. "Maybe he likes ya."

She laughed, relieved to be able to deny that claim. "Oh, no—he's been following Dusty around like she's got a leash around his neck since he got here."

He snorted in amusement. "Yeah, I noticed. But as long as she don't mind, I guess there's nothin to worry about," he conceded.

"Shane!" Carl's voice called out suddenly, and Jenna's head snapped up, wondering if something was wrong.

"Carl?" Lori called frantically, running up to the Hyundai from the left at the same time that Carl approached at the right. "What happened?" she asked, still frantic.

"Shane, Jenna, I found somethin cool," Carl said eagerly, spotting her leaning against the car. "See? Check it out!" He unrolled a large black tool kit on the ground before them, and Jenna's brows raised in honest admiration. "It's an _arsenal_," he said proudly.

Jenna couldn't deny that she was impressed by the boy's find; the kit had plenty of survival knives, a hatchet included, along with a sinister-looking hooked machete. All of them looked to be brand new, made from dark high-carbon steel. These were no cheap, run-of-the-mill blades. These had been crafted with diligence.

She caught sight of Lori's face as the woman sighed—both relieved and exasperated—and tried her best not to smirk in amusement.

"That's cool, man," she told Carl, who grinned up at her eagerly, "why don't you go give it to Dale?"

"Wait—check this one out," Carl insisted, pulling a hatchet from the kit. "Whoa…it's a hatchet…" he admired in an awed voice.

"Be careful, don't play with those," said Lori.

"It's _really_ sharp," Carl went on, giving the hatchet a slow, careful swing.

"What did I _just_ say?" scolded Lori, reaching out for the weapon. "Where did you even get these?"

Jenna frowned. How did Lori not know that already?

"In a truck, up that way," Carl replied, pointing up the road from the direction he'd come, and looked up at his mother hopefully. "Can I keep it?" he asked eagerly, giving the hatchet another slow swing.

Jenna bit down on her lip to cover up the sympathetic smile that threatened to stretch across her face—she knew the answer to that one already.

"Are you crazy?" said Lori, taking the hatchet from her son.

"_What?_" demanded Carl in bewilderment. "No way. Shane," Carl tried then, looking to his uncle of sorts for assistance. "Shane, will you tell her to let me keep one?"

Shane chuckled lightly and put his hands up in surrender. "Oh no, bud, I ain't gettin dragged into this one," he said, glancing over at Lori and catching her murderous Mama Bear gaze. "You better do what your mama says," he advised.

"Aw, come on…" Carl protested, recognizing defeat.

Jenna smiled and took pity on the kid, pushing off from the Hyundai and rolling up the kit into which Lori had just stowed away the hatchet. "Come on, man," she said to Carl. "Let's get these to Dale, alright? I'm sure he'd like to see what you found, too."

Carl nodded a bit reluctantly and Jenna handed him the rolled up kit, patting his back encouragingly as she set off to head back to the RV with Carl walking at her side.

"It's got a really cool machete, too, did'ya see it?" Carl asked her eagerly as they set off.

"Sure did," said Jenna, smiling down at the boy. "Might be even cooler than mine."

He checked her belt, where her machete usually resided. "Where is it?" he wondered after having seen that it wasn't on her.

"Gave it to Dusty for the day," she told him as they approached the RV. "Why don't you go and show Dale, and see what he wants to do with them, alright?" she suggested, nodding at the old man who was still tinkering away at the engine of his RV.

Carl nodded and rushed over to go and show Dale his impressive find, and Jenna laughed lightly under her breath before making her way inside the RV to check on Thao. Seeing that he was entertained with his new comics and doing just fine, she helped Carl stow away the "arsenal" into the closet that housed the bag of guns.

Upon exiting the RV again, they were met with a bit of a confrontation. Andrea was having it out with Dale.

"Where's my gun?" she asked aggressively, and Glenn ducked his head, pretending not to have noticed her arrival as he worked on the engine beside Dale. "You had no right to take it," she accused angrily.

Jenna nudged Carl forward, gesturing for him to go and stand beside his mother, who was adding her findings to the slowly growing cluster of supplies on the hood of the Cherokee with Dusty and Russell.

"You don't need that just now, do ya?" Dale asked lightly, pretending to be oblivious.

"My father gave it to me—it's mine," Andrea maintained stubbornly.

Jenna moved over to stand at Dusty's other side, helping her to pull the supplies she'd stuffed into her backpack and add it to the rest, pretending to be ignorant to the dispute just a short distance away, and ignoring Russell when he reached for the bag to offer his assistance instead. Maybe he was nice enough, but Jenna just didn't know him like she knew the other men in the group. Hardwired instinct told her to put up a wall, needless as it may have been.

"I can hold onto it for you," said Dale with a shrug, trying to focus on the engine.

"Or, you could give it back to me," said Andrea pointedly.

Shane approached, standing between them in a relaxed posture, hands casually in his pockets. "Everythin cool?" he asked them in a calm tone, trying to keep things from escalating.

"No," snapped Andrea immediately, "I want my gun back."

Dale cut his eyes over to Shane briefly. "I don't think it's a good idea right now," he said, trying, for Andrea's sake, to be subtle.

Jenna really couldn't blame Dale for taking her gun, truthfully. Andrea, to put it bluntly, was a bit of a loose cannon lately. After her failed suicide attempt, she didn't display much more than bitterness and contempt. Jenna couldn't honestly say the knowledge of Andrea carrying a firearm in her highly emotional state sat very well with her. Firearms and emotional rollercoasters did not make for a safe combination.

"Why not?" Shane asked Dale.

Dale looked hesitant to answer, but ultimately replied with, "I'm not comfortable with it."

Andrea scoffed, shaking her head and crossing her arms stubbornly. She looked up at Shane expectantly.

"Truth is," he began after a moment of deliberation, looking between Dale and Andrea, "the less guns we have floatin around camp the better."

"You turning over your weapon?" she asked snidely.

He let out a short, dry laugh and shook his head. "Naw," he said honestly, "but I'm trained, in its use. That's what the rest of y'all need is proper trainin, but until that time, I think it's best if Dale keeps em all accounted for."

Jenna wondered if she would be asked to turn over her Beretta. Well, she could make due with her machete either way, of course, but it was always reassuring to know that she had that extra safety net to fall back on, just in case. She wasn't too worried about it anyway. Rick and Shane both knew she was capable of handling firearms.

Andrea looked ready to spit venom as she scoffed once more and skulked off into the RV. Jenna and Dusty exchanged a knowing glance. Climbing back into the RV tonight with Andrea was going to be quite a trip.

"You mind tellin me what that's about?" Shane asked Dale when Andrea was out of earshot.

"Oh, God," breathed Glenn, his voice heavy with relief, "they're back…"

Jenna turned around to follow his gaze, and sure enough, Rick and Daryl were climbing their way back up over the guardrail. When she noticed that Sophia was still nowhere in sight, she sighed heavily and hung her head, a pang of dread assaulting her heart once more. They hadn't found her.

"You didn't…you didn't find her…" Carol whimpered, looking close to breaking down again.

"Her trail went cold," Rick told her regretfully. "We'll pick it up again at first light."

"You can't leave my daughter out there on her own," she plead helplessly, "to spend the night alone in the woods."

"Huntin in the dark's no good," said Daryl in a subdued tone, crossbow slung over his shoulder. Both he and Rick looked thoroughly spent. "We'd just be trippin over ourselves, more people'd get lost."

"But she's _ten_, she can't be out there on her own, you didn't find _anything_?" Carol begged.

Rick looked torn down as he tried to calm the grieving mother. "I know it's hard, but I'm askin you not to panic," he urged, fruitlessly, Jenna knew, "we know she was out there."

"An' we tracked her for a while," input Daryl in a soft voice, looking back at Carol with sympathetic reassurance.

"We have to make this an organized effort," Rick informed all of them adamantly. "Daryl knows the woods better than anybody—I've asked him to oversee this."

Carol's eyes zeroed in on Daryl with intense scrutiny. "Is that blood?" she asked, nodding at the nasty-looking stain on the knee of his pants.

He looked down at the dark stain, obviously reluctant to have to give an answer.

"We took down a walker," Rick said to her after a moment.

She looked like she was ready to faint. "A walker…" she breathed.

"There was no sign that it was ever _anywhere _near Sophia," Rick assured her intently, trying to calm her.

Jenna was highly skeptical about that claim—it would have been just about impossible to tell whether or not the walker had gotten a hold of that little girl.

"How can you know that?" Andrea asked, looking as doubtful as Jenna felt.

Jenna pinned her with an exasperated glare, tossing her hand out and shaking her head in the universal "what the fuck?" gesture. It was one thing to have doubts, but entirely another to voice them to a grieving, panicking mother.

Daryl's eyes cut across to Andrea, looking a bit annoyed himself, and then looked back to Carol once more, his expression softening. "We cut the som'bitch open—made sure," he told her sincerely.

Carol looked mildly relieved, but let out a long, shaky breath as she settled herself down on the guardrail. Lori moved to take a seat beside her, putting an arm around the other woman's shoulders. Unable to stand there and witness Carol's agonized dismay like a statue, Jenna moved to take a seat at her other side, taking her hand in both of her own gently.

Carol took a moment to catch her breath, and then gazed up at Rick, accusation in her blue eyes. "How could you just leave her out there to begin with?" she asked scornfully. "How could you just _leave_ her?"

"Those two walkers were on us, I had to draw em off, it was her best chance," Rick insisted in a slightly pleading voice as he leaned down to be at level with her.

"Sounds like he didn't have a choice, Carol," Shane defended in a gentle tone.

Carol shook her head, tears pouring from her face, and looked back up at Rick. "How was she supposed to find her way back on her own—she's just a child," she wept. "She's just a child…"

Rick ran a hand through his filthy hair and knelt down to peer up at her, begging her with his eyes to understand. "It was my only option," he insisted desperately, "the only choice I could make."

Carol shook her head again. "My little girl got left in the woods," she whimpered in a trembling voice.

She hung her head and proceeded to weep once more, and Jenna and Lori rubbed her back and shoulders gently, trying in vain to provide some semblance of comfort. Jenna glanced up at Rick, and if she wasn't busy soothing Carol, she might have attempted to soothe him; she couldn't tell which of them looked like they needed it more in that moment.

After a moment, Rick stood up again and walked off, seeming to have taken the situation as a personal failure on his part.

For what seemed to be the tenth time that day, Jenna found herself wondering how things had gone so horribly wrong so blindingly fast, and it killed her that there was nothing any of them could do for Sophia and Carol until morning. All they could do was hope—and where a missing child was concerned, how could _hope_ be nearly enough?


	26. Death in the House of God

**Disclaimer: Must I be forced to face the fact that I don't own The Walking Dead? Well fine then. The Walking Dead is not mine to own, I'm just playing in Robert Kirkman's sandbox, so to speak. **

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and suggestive themes.

* * *

_"Even at our birth, death does but stand aside a little. And every day he looks towards us and muses somewhat to himself whether that day or the next he will draw nigh."_  
_—Robert Bolt_

* * *

Death in the House of God

Just as Jenna had expected, sleeping in that crowded RV was a pointless endeavor. Even if it weren't for the grim knowledge that somewhere out in the dark woods, alone and terrified, was a ten-year-old girl, Jenna knew that there was no way in hell she would've been able to sleep that night. They were in the middle of a highway, for one—out in the open and exposed to threats, both living and not-quite-living. Even before Thao had come along, Jenna had never opted to sleep anywhere even remotely out in the open. She'd found the most secure location possible before allowing herself the luxury of sleep—and if she didn't find that, she didn't sleep. Simple as that. Plus, there was very little room for even the semblance of comfort in that RV. (And she meant that literally as well as figuratively.)

She sat at the bench seat toward the back, her legs crossed and up on the seat so as not to kick Daryl, who contented himself with the floor between the bench seat and the little closet. Thao lay curled up on the seat with his head making use of her thigh as a pillow, one hand clasping hers in his sleep. Dusty was curled up in the passenger seat, a blanket wrapped around her, and Dale was sitting back at the driver's seat, fisherman's hat pulled down over his face. Carol and Andrea lay curled up in the small bed in the back, their backs facing each other. (Andrea had conked out almost as soon as she settled herself on the thin mattress, but it had taken Carol hours to finally fall asleep, having grown weary from her endless weeping.) T-Dog sat slumped over at the table, his head resting on his arm in slumber. Across from him sat Russell, who had been still and quiet for some time now. Glenn, like Daryl, had taken residence of the floor between the sink and the table, his baseball cap pulled over his face in a manner similar to Dale's.

Jenna wondered how many more nights they'd be spending in the old Winnebago, without a trace of enthusiasm about that prospect.

Russell shifted in his seat, moving for the first time in a few hours, and Jenna realized that she wasn't the only inhabitant in the RV to remain awake. His eyes were narrowly open, but they were open and alert—not dazed and half-conscious—so he hadn't just woken up recently. He'd been awake for a while.

Jenna was about to close her eyes again and pretend to sleep for lack of anything better to do, when Russell's movement distracted her again. He ran his hand over his face slowly before resting it on the table, drumming his fingertips on the surface almost silently. He looked…hungry…

When she followed his gaze in the darkness, her eyes landed on Dusty's sleeping figure at the front, and understanding clicked immediately. So he really _did_ like Dusty. For only just meeting her that morning, he sure seemed to know exactly what he wanted rather quickly. Well, maybe it had been…a long time for him…

Jenna smirked slightly and closed her eyes, her head leaning back against the wall of the RV. She wondered exactly how much Dusty returned the sentiment, and exactly how this would play out in such…closed quarters.

Running her fingers through Thao's sleek hair absently, she found herself wondering how Shane was holding up atop the RV, keeping watch. She thought back to their conversation last night, a small smile spreading across her lips without even thinking about why the memory made her smile in the first place.

* * *

"God, I hope we find her today," said Dusty in an undertone while she and Jenna dressed in the back of the RV the following morning. "Soph's all Carol's got, ya know?"

"I know," Jenna agreed, tightening the belt that held up her cargo pants. They'd be hiking through the woods for most of the day, and the much more tightly fitting jeans would not be very ideal for that task. "With any luck, she's hiding under the bushes or something, and Daryl will find her."

"Hope so," said Dusty with a sigh.

"So do I," said Jenna as she loaded a magazine into her Beretta, and stowed the gun into the back of her belt before picking up her machete. "Come on," she said, jerking her head toward the door of the RV, "everyone's probably waiting."

She followed Dusty out of the RV, and Thao ran up to her side as she stepped down onto the asphalt under the August sun. Most of the others were gathered around the Peletiers' car, and Jenna and Dusty moved to join the misshaped circle.

Rick unrolled the "arsenal" Carl had found the day before. "Everybody takes a weapon," he told them all, his tone not one to be negotiated with.

"These aren't the kind of weapons we need," Andrea complained, predictably. "What about the _guns_?"

"Ain't we been over that?" Shane asked mildly, trying, Jenna could tell, to be patient. "Daryl, Rick, Jenna, an' I are carryin—"

"_Jenna_?" Andrea demanded, dumbstruck.

"That'd be me," said Jenna flatly, and Andrea's head spun around to pin her with a bewildered glare. Jenna merely raised a brow, waiting to see if she had anything else to gripe about. Her patience with the older woman was running dangerously thin.

Andrea did not look at all pleased by this news, and wasn't shy about letting them know it. "You have _got_ to be kidding me—"

"Jen's been certified for years," Dusty snapped irritably, giving Andrea an annoyed glare. "Back off."

"The four of us are carryin," Rick told Andrea in a firm but reasoning tone of voice.

"Can't have people poppin off rounds every time the trees rustle," Shane muttered, leaning back against the RV next to T-Dog.

"It's not the trees I'm worried about," said Andrea with a roll of her eyes.

Shane seemed to be fed up, and Jenna was glad because she was too. "Say somebody fires at the wrong moment, herd happens to be passin by—see, then it's game over for all of us," he told her shortly. "So, you need to get over it."

Dusty and Jenna exchanged looks of appreciative relief when Andrea decided not to voice her complaints any further—though it was still obvious that she had plenty of them to spare.

"The idea is to take the creek up 'bout five miles, turn around an' come back down the other side," Daryl told them while everyone moved forward to take a weapon from the hood of the car. "Chances are she'll be by the creek—it's her only landmark."

"Stay quiet, stay sharp," Rick told them all intently. "Keep space between you, but always stay within sight of each other."

They all nodded in agreement. Nobody wanted to get left behind out there.

"Everybody assemble your packs," Shane instructed, tossing a water bottle to Glenn.

Jenna retrieved both her own and Dusty's backpacks from the RV. She tossed one of them to Dusty, who was already chatting with Russell, and hoisted her own over her shoulder as she led Thao over to Dale.

"Would you mind keeping an eye on Thao for me?" she asked the old man, who was opening the grate of the RV's engine.

"Not at all," he said, smiling slightly, and leaned down toward Thao, who was peering up at him curiously. "Would you like to learn about fixing cars, son?" he asked the boy, who nodded eagerly. "Well, I'd say that settles the matter."

Jenna smirked. "Thanks," she said to Dale, and then knelt down to be at level with Thao, who turned his attention to her. "I'm gonna be gone for a while to look for Sophia with the others," she informed him, and he listened attentively. "I need you to stay here with Dale and T-Dog, alright?" He nodded. "Do not wander off," she told him intently. "Stay right here and listen to what Dale and T-Dog say. Promise?"

"Promise," he agreed, and she smiled then.

"That's my boy," she praised, ruffling his hair and earning a grin from the child. "You be good. I'll be back later, I promise."

She gave him a tight hug and relinquished him to Dale and T-Dog, the latter of whom exchanged a light fist-bump with the boy. She gave Thao a parting wink and knelt down beside the small stash of food items that was out for everyone to select from for their packs. Not seeing much to choose from, she grabbed a granola bar and a small bottle of water, remembering that she had her hipflask on her just in case.

"That's all you're takin?" Daryl asked, crouching beside her as he selected a few things for himself, stuffing them into his pockets.

She shrugged. "It's not like we've got very much to spare," she said simply.

"Here, take this," he said, handing her a small, half-empty package of jerky. "Eat up, Minnie—unless disappearin when you turn sideways is the goal."

She snorted out a short laugh and took the jerky from him, tossing a piece into her mouth obligingly. She'd always wondered what it would be like to have an older brother rather than a younger brother. After spending a bit of time with Daryl, Jenna thought she might've had a decent idea.

They stood and made their way to where most of the others had gathered around, waiting to start their trek through the woods. Jenna reclaimed her spot beside Dusty, who held the hatchet lazily in both hands while she leaned against the rusty old Jeep Cherokee. The sun blazed down on them relentlessly, and Jenna knew the water they carried with them was going to grow scarce fairly quickly.

Andrea was holding an impressive Bowie knife in her hands, eyeing it with obvious distaste as though it was offending her in some way. Jenna wondered why in the hell the woman was even bothering to go out and comb the woods with the rest of them—she wasn't going to be any help if she was bitching about not carrying a gun the whole time.

She walked by Jenna and Dusty, shooting a sour scowl their way, which they both returned—with interest—until she turned her nose up and passed them.

"What the hell's that about?" Russell asked Dusty in an undertone at her other side.

"Dunno, but I'm about to chuck some Midol at her face if she keeps it up," Dusty replied in an irritated grumble.

Jenna and Russell both laughed under their breath, Russell covering his mouth, trying to be discreet for the older woman's sake. Jenna didn't bother. She'd had about enough of Andrea's misplaced contempt. Grieving was one thing—this was another.

"Dale," said Rick as he approached the old man, "keep on those repairs. We gotta get this RV ready to move."

Dale nodded from where he sat on the steps of the RV's entrance, fishing hat in his hands. "I don't wanna stay here a minute longer than we have to," he mused, looking around the area. "Good luck out there," he told Rick and Lori. "Bring Sophia back."

Rick nodded, and then looked over at Carl who was standing off to the side of them. "Keep an eye on Carl while we're gone?" he asked Dale.

Carl frowned, looking up at his father. "I'm goin with you," he said, as though reminding his father of a pre-established fact. "You need people, right? To cover as much ground as possible," he continued, arguing his case.

He looked between his parents, who seemed to be struggling to come to a decision.

"Your call," said Lori to Rick. "I can't always be the bad guy."

"Well, he has all of you to look after him," Dale pointed out reasonably. "I'd say he's in good hands."

Rick hung his head and then nodded. "Okay, okay," he conceded. "But always within our sight—no exceptions," he reminded his son, ruffling his hair before walking off to go and have a word with Daryl and Shane who were a little ways away.

Dale gave Carl a subtle wink, and Carl smirked conspiratorially before following after his mother, who was seeing about getting him a knife to carry. Jenna couldn't say that she agreed with that decision—there was already one missing kid out in those woods, and they didn't need another to search for—but decided to keep her mouth shut. It was up to his parents, not her.

Jenna and Dusty walked with Glenn and Carol over to join Shane, Rick, and Daryl since it seemed to be time for everyone to start heading out. They had barely made it over to them when Andrea's voice carried across the road.

"I'm not going out there without my gun," she said to Dale adamantly. "I'll even say please."

Jenna stifled a groan of exasperation—barely—and let her head fall back, closing her eyes while Andrea laid into Dale.

"Tell me 'bout it," Shane muttered at her side in an undertone.

Andrea continued to lash out at Dale, her voice dripping with blame and contempt, and Jenna wished she didn't feel any sympathy for the woman. If she didn't, she wouldn't feel that telling her to suck it up or stay behind, because they had a little girl to search for and they couldn't afford to waste any more time on this bullshit, was a tad harsh.

Eventually, when Andrea had finished verbally eviscerating the poor old man, they were able to start their quest. It wasn't long before they had trekked deep into the woods, Daryl taking the lead. They had all spread out, being sure to keep each other in their sights at all times. Ahead of Jenna was Glenn, behind her was Dusty. Somewhere at the back, Shane was bringing up the rear, making sure no one was left behind.

All the while, Jenna's eyes scanned around the dense foliage for any sign of Sophia. How far could the little girl have gone in the duration of one night? She kept her machete in her right hand, ready to use if necessary. She didn't want to have to resort to her Beretta unless given no other choice. Ammo was limited—very, very limited—and she would rather not risk the sound of gunfire. The truth was, Jenna didn't understand why Andrea was complaining about not being able to carry. She had a weapon that was as good for taking down walkers as a gun, if used correctly. It was much better to take down a walker as silently as possible, so as not to attract attention from any others that happened to be in the area.

But something told Jenna that it would be hard enough to convince the others of this fact, let alone Andrea.

* * *

They'd been trekking through the woods for a few hours by Shane's watch, and still had discovered no sign of Sophia. For the first time, Jenna's confidence in finding the little girl alive was rattled.

Up ahead, the group started to slow to a halt, gathering in a bunch, and Jenna approached them curiously, cautiously. She peered up at the front to see Daryl and Rick gesturing for everyone to stay back. Beyond the two of them, the faded orange top of a tent could be seen through the trees.

Dusty came to a stop at Jenna's side with Russell, looking around inquiringly, and Jenna put a finger to her lips before the other either of them could voice a question.

When Shane approached, a sour-faced Andrea in tow, Jenna nodded toward the front, pointing out the cause for delay. He moved to join Rick and Daryl, also gesturing for the others to keep back and stay quiet.

Jenna looked around the area, trading her machete from her right hand to her left and moving her right hand around to hold the grip of her Beretta, just in case. She stepped backward so that she was behind everyone else, placing them between her and the armed men. She didn't want any of them to be taken by surprise from behind while they were distracted.

"She could be in there," Shane said to Rick quietly while the three of them eyed the tent cautiously.

"Could be a whole buncha things in there," said Daryl as he crept forward.

Rick urged the others to stay put once more when Carol took a step forward, and the woman halted, watching intently as Daryl and Shane moved closer to the tent nestled in the trees. Lori moved to put an arm around Carol, and everyone watched with baited breath as Rick joined Shane and Daryl. Jenna shifted her eyes back and forth between the foliage behind everyone and looking over her shoulder toward the tent. Daryl signaled for Rick and Shane to spot him while he approached, pulling his own Bowie knife from its sheath.

Jenna turned her gaze back to the foliage surrounding them, waiting for the tent to be examined. Whatever might be in there, she'd surely hear something of it even at the distance she was at.

Rick called Carol over, and Jenna looked over her shoulder again, taking a few steps backward to keep close to the others as they stepped forward as well. Shane held a hand up, halting them, and Jenna turned her gaze back to the trees.

"Call out softly," she heard Rick whisper to Carol. "If she's in there, yours is the first voice she should hear."

"Sophia?" Carol called out in a soft, slightly shaky voice. "Sweetie? Are you in there?"

They all listened intently, but no reply came from the tent.

"Sophia, it's mommy," Carol tried again. "Sophia, we're all here, baby…" she cajoled, and the following silence told Jenna that there was no life within the tent, Sophia or otherwise. "Sophia?" Carol called once more, her voice trembling.

Jenna looked back when nothing but heavy silence permeated the area, and watched as Rick placed a light hand on Carol's shoulder to stop her from calling out again, and then nod at Daryl, who stood just outside of the tent, knife out and ready to strike if need be. Rick and Shane stepped forward to join him, patting Carol on the shoulder as they went, and raised their guns. Though Jenna's curiosity urged her to watch as Daryl proceeded to unzip the door of the tent, her survival instincts compelled her to turn her gaze back around, on the lookout for any sign of danger.

She could practically feel everyone holding their breath as they waited to see what was inside the tent, silent and tense.

The sound of choked coughing made her look back over her shoulder once more, and she noticed that Daryl was gone. The opened tent told her he must have stepped inside, and from Shane and Rick's responses, whatever was inside the tent with Daryl did not smell too great.

Seeing that the tent must have been safe enough to get closer to, Jenna stepped back and tapped Dusty on the arm, nodding toward the tent. Dusty nodded, understanding, and urged the others to move forward with her, closer to where Carol was standing. Jenna moved with them, but hung back a bit to keep guard, just in case.

"Daryl?" Carol called cautiously when no sound emitted from the tent, despite Daryl not having returned from it yet. "Daryl?" she called again when he didn't answer.

He pushed the door of the tent out of his way suddenly, stepping back outside of it. "Ain't her," he said, and Carol sighed—a sound of relief and despair.

Lori gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, and Dusty patted her shoulder comfortingly.

"What's in there?" Andrea asked, stepping closer to get a better look, while Jenna released her hold on her gun and returned her machete to her right hand.

"Some guy," said Daryl, loading an arrow into his crossbow after stowing his knife away. "Did what Jenner said—opted out. Ain't that what he called it?"

Well, that explained the smell.

"Who's—?" Russell began.

Suddenly, the distant sound of bells echoed through the trees, cutting off his question, and everyone looked up and around instinctively at the very out-of-place noise. Rick listened closely, and then pointed with his left hand, directing them, and he and Shane took off running in the lead while everyone followed after them.

They continued to run, and the sound of the bells grew louder, but it was hard to pinpoint where exactly the noise was coming from. They all slowed to a pause, looking around searchingly.

"Which direction?" Shane asked Rick.

"I think that way—I'm pretty sure," Rick said, pointing again.

Shane hopped up onto the trunk of a fallen tree to try and get a better look around. "Dang, it's hard to tell out here," he panted.

"If we hear them then maybe Sophia does too," said Carol breathlessly, a hopeful note to her voice.

"If someone's ringing those bells, they could be calling others," Glenn supplied, sounding a bit breathless himself.

"Or signaling that they found her," input Andrea.

"She could be ringin em herself," said Rick, and Jenna didn't want to voice her opinion that those were all very tenuous claims. "C'mon," Rick urged, and they started running in the direction he'd pointed once more.

They sped through the trees, Jenna inadvertently gaining pace with Rick and Shane in the front, following the ever increasing volume of the ringing bells.

Eventually, the ringing stopped, and in a few minutes, they'd reached the edge of the woods, apparently, for suddenly there were sweeping lawns before them rather than more dense foliage. The headstones told them it was a graveyard they'd stumbled upon, and at the base was a small pristine white church.

"That can't be it, can it?" Shane said. "Got no steeple, no bells—Rick!"

Rick had taken off in the next moment, speeding toward the church, leaving the rest of them behind. Shane sprinted after him, and the rest surged forward. Again, Jenna found herself at the front, having sped by the others, and was now nearly at level with both of them while they advanced toward the small church.

They slowed to a stop at the entrance, and Shane motioned for the rest of them to hang back a bit. Jenna moved back to let Daryl step up to the large red doors with Rick and Shane, and stood at the foot of the short set of stairs with the others, waiting with apprehension. What would they find in there, she wondered? All she knew was that she didn't want to set foot inside that church if she didn't have to.

They pushed the doors open slowly, and Jenna peered around Daryl to see what was inside—and her brows raised in shock. Sitting at the pews like normal churchgoers were three walkers, who had just turned their heads at the sound of the opened door.

"The fuck…?" she whispered under her breath.


	27. Doubt and Desperation

**Disclaimer: As ever, I don't own The Walking Dead. =(**

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and suggestive themes.

**Note: **This chapter contains a scene of sexual assault, so be forewarned if you're uncomfortable with reading anything of that sort. (Just skip the flashback sequence, and you'll be in the clear.)

* * *

_"It's not easy to be Light when you've been Dark. It's almost too much to ask anyone."_

_—Macon Ravenwood from Beautiful Creatures_

* * *

Doubt and Desperation

Rick holstered his gun and took the Parang blade his wife was holding out to him, and Jenna was relieved they were going to do this quietly. She swapped with Shane, passing him her machete and taking hold of his Mossberg, while Glenn handed over his hooked machete to Daryl, holding his crossbow for him. Looking over her shoulder to be sure no walkers were creeping up the lawns behind them, she waited by the door between Lori and Glenn, watching the men take down one walker each.

When all three walkers were down, Carol slipped by Lori through the doorway and stepped cautiously into the church. The others moved to follow her, and Jenna hung back a bit, staying out on the entryway, looking around at the lawn of gravestones.

"_Sophia!_" Rick called loudly—a cry of desperation—and Jenna cringed a bit at the harsh anxiety in the volume of his voice. He was losing confidence too, she realized, and hung her head. She'd been sure they would find her, but now…

Suddenly, the sound of bells blared—louder than before—and Jenna spun around, the location of the sound directly at her left. She sped over to the side of the church alongside Glenn, and they found a small metal box attached the wall, the cables running up to a speaker at the roof above.

Glenn ripped the batteries from the box hurriedly as the others ran out to join them.

"Timer," Daryl panted, waving the machete at the speaker, "it's on a timer."

"I'm gonna go back in for a bit," said Carol in a defeated voice, and she, Lori, and Dusty walked back to head inside the church. After some deliberation, Russell followed in after them.

"Damn, Mouse, what—did you run track for college or somethin?" Daryl asked while she swapped weapons with Shane again, and she looked over at him, one eyebrow raised questioningly. "Never seen someone with such little legs move so fast."

She huffed a breath of laughter, giving her machete a flick to shake off most of the excess blood, and pulled the thin towel from her back pocket to wipe off the rest. The truth was, she'd never spent much time running _before_ the world crashed and burned. Just _surviving_ these days would've been more than sufficient to train for a marathon.

The others all seemed to congregate back into the church for a rest, and Jenna opted to stay outside, leaning against a tall maple tree under the shade. She didn't want to remember the last time she'd been inside a church.

_"That was a bad time…"_ Edwin Jenner's voice echoed in her head.

Yeah…that _was_ a bad time.

She let the tree hold up most of her weight, but she didn't dare sit down to take a rest, afraid of how reluctant she'd be to stand again when the time came. Working on her third day of no sleep, she was starting to feel the effects of sleep deprivation. It was best if she stayed on her feet for the time being, so she couldn't be caught off guard and find herself unprepared to defend herself.

"You alright?" Shane's voice asked.

She looked up, in the process of wiping the sweat from her face with her bandana, to see him approaching, Mossberg held down toward the ground.

"I used to think the humidity in the summer back at home was bad," she said sardonically, and he laughed in agreement while she pulled the flask from her pocket and swallowed a welcome gulp of water. "But, we did have the wind coming off the Sound to keep the heat down. There's no escaping the heat out here."

"You know," he began, a trace of a smirk about his expression, "I wouldn't expect someone who's so opposed to drinkin to carry a flask."

She laughed lightly, waving it at him. "Fits in my pocket better than a bottle," she explained, slipping the flask back into said pocket. "Got it from a liquor store in Tennessee. As far as I know, this thing's never had alcohol in it."

He laughed and moved to lean against the base of the tree at her left. "Did you ever drink?" he wondered curiously, and she shook her head. "Never?" he asked, surprised.

"Nope," she replied amusedly. "Daryl's gonna have one hell of a time trying to get me drunk," she added wryly.

"Hmm, I'll bet…" he mused. "You never been drunk before, have you?" he guessed, and she shook her head. "What'd you do on your twenty-first then?"

She laughed as images of that night flashed through her mind and then bit her lip, trying to keep it in, and glanced up at him, seeing his expression move from curiosity to suspicion. "Well, considering you're a cop, I should probably keep that to myself," she said.

"Well, seein as I'm off-duty at the moment, I'd say it's safe to tell me," he quipped back.

She nodded, and then shrugged, conceding. "We started off the night at a club in Seattle called Trinity," she began, and he nodded, biting his own lip in amusement, "we danced there for a few hours. Then, after Danny and I dragged our friend Mackenzie away from some guy and his sketchy friends, we drove down to the waterfront to go hood-riding."

"Hood-ridin?" he parroted, raising his brows. "That mean what I think it means?"

"If you think it means sitting on the hood of the car while Danny was driving, then yes," she answered, and he nodded appreciatively. "And then we finished off the night with a dip in the Sound."

His brows shot up again and he started laughing. "Really? Wouldn'ta pegged you for the skinny dippin type," he said, still laughing.

She laughed too, and shook her head. "No, we were still dressed," she defended. _Partially,_ she amended in her head, but chose to keep that detail to herself.

"Hmm," he said, trying not to laugh, she could tell. "Sounds like one hell of a night."

"Oh, it was," she agreed, smirking. "Water was fucking _freezing_, but worth it."

"And not one drop of alcohol fueled any of that?" he inquired disbelievingly, and she shook her head, laughing. "Damn, girl, I could only imagine how wild you'd get if you did drink occasionally," he noted amusedly.

She let out a breath of laughter. "I've wondered that myself a few times."

"But you'll never know, I guess," he assumed, and she shook her head. "There a reason for that?" he wondered.

She nodded, shrugging slightly. "My mom was an alcoholic—among other things," she answered. "And honestly, I just never saw the appeal of it all. If I'm gonna have a wild night out, I'd like to remember it," she said with a light laugh.

"See, that's what you _think_," he noted with a smirk, and she laughed with him. "Some things are better left to interpretation."

"I'll take your word for it," she chuckled.

They settled back into comfortable silence, both of them resting their heads back against the trunk of the tree, cooling off in the shade. She moved to tie her machete to her belt for the time being, seeing that the area was strangely calm, but her pants hung a little lower than she would have liked when the added weight was attached.

Rolling her eyes, she pulled on her belt to tighten it again, giving it a good yank to pull away any extra slack, before tying it off again. Satisfied, she leaned back against the tree, tilting her head back and closing her eyes, enjoying the light breeze that swept through the clearing.

That scent…where had she smelled that before?

She recalled the elevator in the CDC, having smelled it there and wondered the same thing then. The wind blew from the left, and she inhaled silently, taking in the scent once more. The woodsy smell was partially mixed with sweat this time, but it was the same scent, she was sure. And now she was sure that it was coming from Shane. Wow…the man smelled amazing…

"Didn't those jeans Dusty gave you fit better 'n that?" he asked, snapping her out of it.

She huffed out a breath of wry laughter, eyes still closed. "Hiking through the woods in skinny jeans isn't exactly the way to go."

He snorted out a small laugh of agreement, and she smirked.

The sound of the church doors opening again caught her attention, and she opened her eyes to see the others exiting the church, Rick ahead of them. He looked around, spotted them, and made it way over toward them, presumably to talk to Shane. Jenna decided to go and stand with Dusty, who was running her hand up and down Carol's back soothingly, to give the two partners some time to collaborate. She gave Rick a short nod as she passed him, and came to stand at Carol's other side, patting her shoulder reassuringly.

She looked around at the others, seeing how worn out they looked. Carol looked thoroughly defeated, and Lori looked equally subdued. Andrea just looked…bitter.

Shane approached them after talking with Rick. "Y'all gotta follow the creek bed back, okay?" he told them. "Daryl, you're in charge. Me an' Rick, we're jus' gonna hang back, search this area another hour or so, jus' to be thorough."

"Splittin us up?" Daryl asked. "You sure?"

"Yeah," Shane replied. "We'll catch up to you."

"I'll go with ya," Russell offered, taking Jenna by mild surprise. "Shouldn't be jus' the two of ya out there, ya know?" he added with a shrug.

Rick nodded after a moment. "Alright, thank you."

"No problem, man," said Russell as he stepped over to join them, accepting his Browning from Shane.

"I wanna stay too," said Carl to his father, stepping toward the three of them. "I'm her friend," he said, defending his case again.

Jenna had thought letting Carl come along before was a risk, but _this_? Shane didn't look like he thought much of that idea either, and looked to Rick to see what he would decide. Rick looked lost for words, and Lori stepped forward then, making the decision that time.

"Just be careful, okay?" she told him, and he nodded. "When did you start growin up?" she teased, wrapping her arms around him and holding him close.

Rick approached her, wrapping his arms around her. "We'll be along soon enough," he assured her quietly, and kissed her gently. "Here," he said as they parted again, "take this." He held out his Colt Python for her to take. "Remember how to use it?"

She shook her head. "I'm not takin your gun and leavin you unarmed."

Daryl looked between them for a moment. "Here," he said, pulling a smaller Colt revolver from his belt and holding it out to Lori. "Got a spare…take it."

Rick nodded at him in thanks. Jenna heard a loud sigh of exasperation behind her, and she glanced back to see Andrea's even more bitter expression as she glared daggers at Lori. Jenna rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Shane and the others. And that was when she noticed the expression on Russell's face. It was nothing like the hungry gaze she'd seen in the RV last night. No, this went beyond hungry—it was _ravenous_, carnal, and purely predatory.

She followed his gaze and her eyes landed on Dusty at her right, and a slow, steady sensation of dread encroached upon her. There was something sickeningly familiar about Russell's predatory gaze…

**_Flashback: Colorado, late June_**

Jenna looked around at the nearly vacant streets on the fringes of Colorado Springs, and pulled the dusty old Chevy Impala to a stop at the side of an inconspicuous abandoned music store. If anyone was in the area, which was highly unlikely, they sure as hell wouldn't go looking for supplies in a building full of instruments and sheet music.

Not seeing any of the dead on the streets or through the windows of the forgotten buildings, she decided it was safe enough to ditch her leather jacket. It had to be almost a hundred degrees, and she was baking.

Tossing it onto the passenger seat, she grabbed her machete and her Beretta and exited the vehicle, scanning her eyes around out of habit. The absence of the dead was almost eerie—she'd yet to come across a place without them until now.

She rested the machete over her shoulder and moved through the block, waving the creep-factor away dismissively. Now was not the time to let a little eerie silence and vacancy get the better of her. She was running low on water, and completely out of food. She needed to stock up if she wanted to be able to get out of the city tonight—and she did. Very much so. The sooner she was on a back road, the happier she'd be.

It happened so fast.

She'd barely stepped away from a very rundown and battered-looking laundromat to take a look down the alley next to it, when a large, rough hand grabbed onto her left forearm and yanked her into the alley.

Instinctively, she swung out with her machete before she'd even really settled her eyes onto her attacker—at first, she assumed it was one of the dead; until she registered that this hand was not cold. And when another hand locked around the wrist of her right arm, she knew she was in for something much, _much_ worse than a cannibalistic corpse.

She was slammed against the concrete wall of the laundromat, pinned in place by both wrists, and she thrashed automatically, kicking out at the large man before her. Her foot made contact with his knee, and he growled in fury before bringing the other knee up and shooting it directly into her stomach.

Pain erupted, and not a moment later, he slammed her back against the concrete with more force—trying to hurt her rather than just pin her that time. Her head smacked against the concrete, stunning her momentarily, and she lost the grip she still had on her machete.

The sound of the blade clanging on the pavement brought her back to her senses, and she began to struggle violently again; kicking, thrashing, all to no avail. The one thing she didn't do was scream; because who would hear her?

"Stop fighting!" he growled, his fist bursting forward and making contact with the side of her face in one solid punch.

Through the pain, she was still able to register that her left hand had been released, and she lashed out, aiming to claw at his eyes. Much to her surprise, he didn't let her go, even when her fingernails scraped across his right eye hard enough break through the skin of his eyelid. Instead, he grabbed her by the hair with his free hand and swung her around, away from the wall and slammed her down onto the ground, pinning her again.

The rough pavement cut into her skin as she struggled to free herself from his crushing weight, and she could feel her Beretta digging into her lower back, completely useless to her now.

Now that he was on top of her, and now that he was all she could see, she finally looked directly at the man.

His face was covered in layers of dirt and grime, as was his lank, matted hair. If it was cleaned, it might've been blond. His goatee was stained, and the nearly suffocating stench of chewing tobacco explained the source of the stains. His right eye was pinched shut and blood was dripping from the gash she'd carved across it, but the left stared down at her in a combination of triumph and…savage rage. As she stared up at him in that moment, his mouth turned up in a smirk before stretching into a vicious leer, his rotten, stained teeth exposing themselves to her.

Purely predatory.

That's what this man was. Undiluted, carnal, predatory savagery. And she was nothing but his prey.

In the next moment, she could feel his hands all over her, like acid, tearing her shirt to shreds and raking across her flesh while she thrashed around desperately, helplessly. He had her left hand crushed to the asphalt beneath his knee, and the right pinned above her head in a vice grip. He sat upon her thighs, rendering her unable to kick him off of her.

This was really happening. This wasn't a nightmare. This was so much worse than any nightmare she'd ever had, even after the world had gone to hell.

As soon as his left hand released her wrist so that he could tear open her belt next, she reached into her pocket, acting quickly, knowing it may have very well been her only chance to escape. Grasping her Stiletto knife, she flicked out the blade and swung her arm up, aiming for his neck.

He reacted quickly, however, and blocked the strike, his arm taking that hit. He roared out in pain and fury, swinging his fist out and punching her in the face once more before ripping the switchblade out of her hand.

"Bitch!" he spat in fury, and then turned her own blade on her, carving into her torso, right above her right hipbone.

Whereas she hadn't screamed once before, now all she could do was scream in pain.

"Don't feel too good, does it, little bitch?" he cackled menacingly, twisting the blade and carving upward at a new angle, making her holler louder than ever before. He struck her in the face once more, tossing the blade aside. "Shut up! You're gonna bring those biters on us! _Shut up!_"

She only screamed louder when he sank his fist into her stomach, hoping to God that the dead _did_ find them. Because being torn apart and eaten alive was a better alternative to _this_.

"_Shut up!_"

He had his hands around her throat then, strangling her—cutting off her screams. She choked for air instead, hoping that she at least passed out before he started violating her again…and as her hand clawed uselessly at the pavement beside her, searching for the switchblade, she realized that it hadn't been the rough asphalt that was cutting into her skin—it was broken glass.

It was now or never. Do or die.

She grasped onto the first shard she could reach and lashed out again. He was unprepared for it that time, and she slashed the shard across his face with as much force as she could possibly manage.

He howled in pain, his hands releasing her throat to cover his bleeding face, and she swung out again, and that time, the glass was embedded into his neck. He was choking now, coughing up blood over her, and she rolled them over with all of her strength, wanting nothing more than to get out from underneath this vile man. This monster.

As soon as their positions were switched, and he lay on his back on the pavement, she scrambled to her feet and pulled the Beretta from her belt. Without even stopping to think about it, she fired three rounds, each bullet plunging into his skull, one after the other.

Not taking even the most fleeting of moments to glare down at her third murder victim, she grabbed her switchblade and machete, and took off, sprinting down the block, just wanting to put as much distance between her and that alley as possible. Wanting to leave everything behind in that alley.

She reached the Chevy and jumped in, pulling the door closed behind her immediately, trapping herself within the vehicular barrier.

In the next moment, she'd dropped her weapons at the floor of the car, wrapped her arms around herself and curled up in a ball, sobbing uncontrollably.

**_End Flashback _**

Blinking rapidly, Jenna snapped back to the present, trying to ignore the horrible sensation in her stomach—like ice water sloshing around continuously. Her eyes focused on Russell again—

Only to see that Russell wasn't there at all. It was a man with matted hair, a grimy face, and blood dripping from his right eyelid. Slowly, his lips curled upward in a vicious smirk, before spreading apart wider to reveal a row of rotten teeth.

_No._

She blinked again, and Russell was there, standing between Rick and Shane, waiting for the rest of them to head back to the highway. He wiped his hand on the shirt he'd borrowed from Rick, leaving a smear of dirt on his side, and tucked his Browning into his belt. He'd yet to remove his gaze from Dusty, and still, there was that carnal, predatory set in his eyes that made Jenna's blood feel like liquid ice in her veins.

She stared at him intently, willing that expression to vanish so she could chalk it up to her overactive, warped imagination. And then his eyes shifted over to her, locking with hers, freezing her in place.

Slowly, his lips curled upward in an arrogant, predatory smirk.

Jenna cast her eyes downward immediately, trying not to let herself be consumed by her vicious memories again, and pretending to be frightened. She'd let him think he had her under his thumb. She'd let him think he'd scared her into submission. She'd let him think he won this round, but he wouldn't know that she was actually planning…plotting…

As soon as he let his guard down, as soon as she had the chance…she'd kill him. Murder victim number four.

"C'mon," Daryl's voice broke through her concentration. "Let's get movin."

Not looking back in Russell's direction, Jenna walked with Dusty, following after the others as Daryl led them back into the woods to continue the search.

They trekked through the trees again, following the other side of the creek bed, and for now, Jenna put Russell out of her mind, since there was nothing she could do about him at the moment. Instead, she focused on the search, hoping direly that they would find Sophia, or that Shane, Rick, and Carl would find her—and that Russell would miraculously get lost, or injured…or bitten. But the longer that little girl was missing, the more unlikely her survival was.

The only positive thought in Jenna's head at that point was that with every step over fallen leaves, crunching twigs, and dirt, she was brought closer to Thao.

"So this is it?" Carol said, speaking to no one in particular, as she sank down on a fallen tree after they'd been hiking for almost an hour. "This is the whole plan?" She looked both physically and emotionally drained.

Daryl sighed, leaning against a tree. "Guess the plan is to whittle us down into smaller and smaller groups."

"Carrying knives and pointy sticks," said Andrea snidely, and Jenna and Dusty shared an annoyed glance from where they stood with Glenn. She turned to Lori then, and Jenna had an idea of what was coming next. "I see _you_ have a gun," she said pointedly.

Before Jenna could tell the woman to back off and climb down from her high-horse, Lori beat her to the punch.

"What, you want it?" she demanded sharply, looking Andrea straight in the eyes. "Here," she said, stepping toward the woman, "take it." She held the small revolver out for Andrea to take, not taking her eyes from her. "I'm sick of the looks you're givin me."

Andrea sighed in exasperation and took the gun from Lori's hand as though the other woman was twisting her arm to do so.

"All of you," Lori continued, obvious frustration in her voice as she dropped down to dig through her pack. She looked up at Carol after a moment. "Honey, I can't imagine what you're goin through and I would do anything to stop it, but you have got to stop blaming Rick. It is in your face _every time_ you look at him. And when Sophia ran, he didn't hesitate, did he? Not for a _second_. I don't know that any of us woulda gone after her the way he did, or made the hard decisions he had to make, or that anybody coulda done it _any_ differently."

Carol looked down at the ground, unable to meet Lori's gaze now, and silence permeated the atmosphere around them.

"Y'all look to him and then you blame him, but he is not perfect," Lori went on after a moment, proceeding with her rant. "You think you can do this without him, go right ahead—_nobody_ is stoppin you."

Jenna didn't entirely agree with that assessment—each time she'd thought about heading off on her own, she'd been stopped, cajoled into staying with them. But, Lori was frustrated, both her husband and her son were off in the woods in dangerous territory, and her husband was in quite a tough position, having taken on the role of the group's leader, which Shane seemed to have relinquished rather willingly. It was a taxing job, to say the least.

Then again, Lori was the one who'd let Carl stay behind in the first place. If she felt this apprehensive about it, why the hell had she agreed to it? This was her son's life, for fuck's sake.

Lori gulped down some of her water and the stuffed the bottle back into her pack in quick, frustrated movements. Andrea stepped forward and held the revolver out to her, looking a little shamefaced, not dissimilar to the way she'd looked after Daryl had torn her down back at the nursing home. Lori accepted the gun, glancing up at Andrea briefly.

"We should keep moving," Jenna said to Daryl when some of the tension had dissipated, and he nodded, jerking his head at the rest of them to get them to follow after him.

"Yo, Mouse," Daryl said in an undertone, falling into step with her, the others trailing behind them a bit. "You might wanna watch out for that Russell prick."

Her eyes darted over to his immediately, startled and shocked. He'd noticed too?

"The way he was lookin at ya…I dunno, there was jus' somethin 'bout it," he explained at her stunned expression.

She nodded, composing herself. "Way ahead of you, man," she assured him in an undertone so as not to tip off the others. "But he wasn't looking at me…" She cast her eyes over her shoulder to where Dusty walked with Carol, hand-in-hand. "He was looking at Dusty."

Daryl nodded, and Jenna knew that despite everything, she at least had one of the others on her side here. At least Daryl would understand her choice to kill him…right?

They continued their trek through the woods, none of them talking much, and Jenna hated to admit it, but she doubted they were going to find Sophia at all that day. Something told her that there would be no miracle occurring on this particular day, no matter how badly every last one of them wanted that. All she could hope was that nothing else went south today, and they could start fresh again in the morning. After she tied up a few loose ends, that was…

A shot echoed through the trees, halting all of them, and Jenna, bringing up the rear now, spun around on the spot, her heart in her stomach, as a second shot sounded off a moment later.

Things could always, _always_ get worse.

* * *

**Note:**

What do you think about Russell? Does Jenna have reason for worry, or are her past experiences clouding her judgment? Will she end up killing an innocent man, or protecting Dusty from the same fate she suffered?


	28. Fairburn Road

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead. Bummer. **

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and suggestive themes.

* * *

_"Life is just one damned thing after another."_

_—Elbert Hubbard_

* * *

Fairburn Road

"You still worrying about it?" Carol asked Lori as they continued their trek through the woods.

Jenna paused with the rest of the group, watching Lori crane her neck to peer through the trees, looking fruitlessly for any sign of her husband and son.

"Those were gunshots…" Lori murmured, still looking around.

Of course they were gunshots. They all knew that, and Jenna was trying not to let it show how worried _she_ was. There had been two blasts of gunfire, echoing all around and making it impossible to pinpoint the location. Something was not right…

"We all heard it," confirmed Daryl matter-of-factly.

Lori spun around to face him, her eyes wide with obvious panic. "Why _two_ shots?"

Daryl and Jenna exchanged a wary glance, knowing how close Lori was to slipping into full-blown hysteria. No matter what had happened out in the woods, they needed to get back to the highway safely _before_ they started losing it.

"Maybe they took down a walker," Jenna offered lightly, knowing how full of shit that comment was even before she said it.

Lori shot her a scathing look. "Don't patronize me, you know Rick wouldn't risk a gunshot to put down a walker—or Shane. They'd do it quietly."

Of course they would. Jenna had just been hoping that Lori would be easy to pacify.

"Yeah, well, they got Russell with em," Daryl pointed out dryly, looking around at their surroundings cautiously. "An' that prick's squirlier 'n anythin I ever skinned an' gutted."

Everyone turned their gaze toward Daryl in surprise then, shocked at the obvious contempt with which he'd mentioned Russell. Everyone seemed to like Russell pretty well, and it wasn't hard to see why—he was good-looking, polite, always helpful, and very social. But if they'd seen the same thing in his expression that Jenna and Daryl had seen…would they be so welcoming then?

"Shouldn't they have caught up with us by now, though?" Glenn asked honestly.

Daryl rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed that his attempt to keep the others calm had been unsuccessful. "Nothin we can do 'bout it anyway. Can't be runnin around these woods, chasin echoes…"

Lori glowered at him contemptuously. "So what _do_ we do then?" she demanded.

"Same as we been doin, lady," Daryl shot back. "Beat the bush for Sophia, work our way back to the highway."

Jenna leaned against the tree behind her, fatigued. She really needed to start getting sleep more regularly. Wiping the sweat from her face, she tuned out Andrea and Carol's voices, focusing instead on how exactly she'd deal with Russell. She'd initially been intent on killing him, but perhaps...perhaps that was her past egging her on. Shoot first, deal with the aftermath later. But she wasn't alone anymore, and the others would definitely notice Russell's absence by now, so it wasn't like she could just sweep it under the rug if she killed him. Would they believe her if she explained to them _why_ she did it? And if they did happen to believe her, would they agree with her choice?

Something made her doubtful.

It was true that they outnumbered Russell greatly, and he didn't have much opportunity to get Dusty alone and vulnerable. But there was always that slim chance, wasn't there? How many times did life have to prove that? All it would take was one moment for them to slip, and let him out of their sight, let their guard down. And what exactly would that entail for Dusty? Jenna really didn't want to even think about it.

Daryl's sharp voice brought her back to the present, and she turned her eyes upward to see him lecturing Andrea and Carol.

"It's a waste of time, all this hopin an' prayin," he said scathingly. "We're gonna locate that lil' girl, an' she's gonna be jus' _fine_." He glowered between the two of them before shaking his head and stalking off. "Am I the only one Zen around here? Good Lord…"

Jenna smirked—_Zen_ was not one of the words she would've used to describe Daryl Dixon—and followed after the others, resuming her position at the rear to keep anything from sneaking up on them.

It was a slow go. Pretty much everyone other than Daryl was showing signs of obvious fatigue, and it wasn't just the sheltered housewives of the group who were drained. Jenna was struggling to keep the weariness from crippling her, and nothing but hardwired survival instinct was keeping her alert to her surroundings. Lori and Carol looked close to sinking to the ground any moment. Andrea trudged off to the side a little ways away from the group, her head down and shoulders slumped. Glenn looked tired, but he, being more used to the physical exertion of running for his life in Atlanta, was faring better than most. Dusty looked tired, but not too bad—she was getting tough, and getting tough fast, which Jenna admired. The girl was discovering she was a survivor.

But there was one weakness in her that left her vulnerable; Dusty was terrified of being alone. Jenna wondered if losing her mother and sisters the way she had played into that, but the fact was, she was afraid of being alone, and that was a large part of why she was so open and welcoming to people. She formed strong bonds with others very quickly, and from a survivalist's perspective, that could cripple her. The more people she cared about, the more people she was holding onto…the more people she had to lose. And, more presently significant, the more vulnerable she was to letting the wrong people in. She'd already formed a bond with Russell, and if she wasn't careful, if she was too trusting…things could end _horribly_ for her.

Casting another glance to check on Andrea, being sure the woman didn't wander off too far, Jenna moved forward and fell into step with Dusty, who was moving more toward the back of the group behind Carol.

"Hey, Dusty," Jenna said in an undertone. "Walk with me for a second?" she requested.

Frowning in puzzlement, Dusty nodded and slowed her pace with Jenna, bringing them several feet behind the group, just out of immediate earshot. "What's up?" Dusty wondered curiously, also scanning her eyes around in caution.

"I know you and Russell like talking and everything, but can you do me a favor?" Jenna asked, and the expression on her face seemed to tell Dusty that she was by no means joking around here. "Watch out around him. He's…he might not be as…friendly as he seems."

She frowned again, looking back at Jenna in absolute confusion. "What're you talkin about? He's been nothin but nice the whole time."

Jenna shrugged, looking around at their surroundings habitually. "It's only been a full day since you met him."

"I only met you a little more 'n a week ago," Dusty pointed out. "I trust you."

Jenna didn't want to get into _that_ particular topic, and changed tack. "Listen, you told me back at camp to watch out for Roy McFadden, because he was a creep who didn't bother to hide it, right?" she reminded her. "Well, I get the feeling that Russell's…a different kind of creep. The kind that _does_ bother to hide it."

Dusty rolled her eyes and seemed to be amused now. "Jen, c'mon—"

"I could be wrong, I know that," Jenna defended as they trailed a short distance after the others still. "But I could be right. So just, please, if for nothing other than the sake of my sanity, will you be careful around that guy? Don't go off alone with him, or anything, at least not until we've actually had time to get to know him a little more?" she implored.

Dusty rolled her eyes again. "Alright," she conceded with her hands up, obviously still amused. "Chastity belt is firmly in place."

Jenna managed a smirk. At least Dusty seemed willing enough to keep her guard up—for now, anyway. It wasn't much, but it did give Jenna a little more time to figure out what exactly she was going to do about Russell. Because, in all honesty, she would much rather risk killing him and having the rest of the group turn on her or throw her out than letting him live and _hoping_ her suspicions were wrong. There was a lot of truth in Daryl's words; hoping and praying was a waste of time when you could just handle the situation on your own.

A loud, shrill scream made both Jenna and Dusty jump, and ahead of them, the rest of the group had all halted in their tracks, looking equally startled. The screaming continued, growing louder and more desperate with each passing moment, and Jenna noticed which of them was not among the group.

"Andrea!" Lori yelled shrilly as they all looked around, searching for the woman.

Andrea's screams were coming from somewhere behind them, and as they all ran toward the noise, Jenna could've kicked herself for not paying attention. She'd seen that she was straggling—why the fuck hadn't she said anything to the woman?

A distant tramping sound was approaching fast as they finally came upon the scene to see Andrea on the ground, kicking at a walker, hollering in terror.

Before any of them could make a move in her direction, however, the trampling sound was explained when a girl with short brown hair burst through the foliage on a large brown horse, striking the walker in the head with a wooden baseball bat hard enough to send the corpse flying backward. Jenna, like the others, stood rooted in place, gaping at the girl on the horse in utter bemusement. Not only was that a _very_ impressive swing—on horseback, no less—but what in the hell was this young woman doing out in these woods? How had she come directly to them at just the right moment?

"Lori?" the young woman asked them, coming to a stop with her horse. "Lori Grimes? _Whoa_," she said sharply, apparently to halt the restless horse she sat upon.

Jenna could only frown in puzzlement. How did this woman know any of them by name? Those echoing shots in the distance… Something was definitely wrong…

"I'm Lori," the woman answered breathlessly.

"Rick sent me, you gotta come now," the woman said hurriedly.

"_What?_" Lori demanded, as bewildered as the rest of them.

"There's been an accident—Carl's been shot; he's still alive, but you gotta come now," the young woman explained in the same rushed tone. "Rick needs you—_jus' come_!" she demanded sharply when Lori could only stand frozen in place, her face white with horror.

Lori, snapping out of her terrified stupor, immediately dropped the backpack from her shoulders and rushed over to the horse without hesitation.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa—you don't know this girl!" Daryl growled as Lori mounted the horse, and Jenna turned from pulling Andrea to her feet to see him striding toward the two women on the horse angrily. "You can't get on that horse!"

"Rick said you had others on the highway?" the woman asked as she helped Lori up onto the saddle behind her, ignoring Daryl's distrustful ranting. "That big traffic snarl?"

"Uh huh," said Glenn, gawking at the woman with wide eyes.

"Backtrack to Fairburn Road, two miles down is our farm, you'll see the mailbox—the name's Greene," the woman said very rapidly. No sooner had she finished those directions than she was snapping the reins, yelling, "hi-_yah_!" and the large horse burst into a gallop through the trees, out of sight in seconds, the sound of hoof beats growing more and more distant until that too was gone.

Jenna stared at the space in the trees where the two women had disappeared, and shook her head slightly in bemusement… Carl had been shot…

She shook her head again—now was not the time for panic—and retrieved the Bowie knife from the ground that Andrea had dropped in her struggle with the walker. Seeing how shaken the woman was, Jenna decided to hold onto the knife. If another walker happened across them, they would definitely be more prepared, and she wasn't about to let Andrea wander so far away this time. She'd tie herself to the woman if she had to.

The sound of a gravelly groan caught Jenna's attention, and she turned her head to see the walker sit up straight again, coming to.

"Shut up," griped Dusty in an irritated mutter, and swung her hatchet down, cracking the blade into the walker's skull without any trace of hesitation, just as Daryl had begun to raise his Horton. She yanked the blade free and stepped away from the walker, reclaiming her spot beside Carol, who was staring at her with widened eyes.

Jenna caught sight of Daryl's slightly raised brows before he trudged ahead, grumbling under his breath for the others to follow after him. Despite everything, Jenna couldn't help but to smile slightly. _Definitely getting tough._

* * *

"Shot?" Dale demanded as Jenna was hopping over the guardrail, intent on her course; the RV was just a few more strides ahead of her. "What d'you mean, _shot_?"

The rest of the discussion was lost in Jenna as she rushed to the RV and yanked open the door, wanting nothing more in that moment than to see her boy. Everything seemed to be slipping through the cracks, and he was something she _couldn't_ lose her hold on. He was her constant solace—seeing Thao safe and happy was what kept her going. So when he leapt into her arms almost as soon as she had the RV's door open, she felt immediately grounded again.

Things were alright. _He_ was alright. Everything else was secondary.

"You're back!" he exclaimed joyously, wrapping himself around her upper body. "You were gone a really long time," he griped, leaning back in her arms and studying her face intently, seeking an explanation for her prolonged absence.

"I know, sweetheart, I'm sorry," she said, settling him on her hip. "Did you have a good time with Dale and T-Dog?"

He nodded. "We were getting spare parts from the cars and I helped," he said proudly.

She smiled with him. "Oh yeah? Well, aren't you helpful?" she cooed as she carried him into the RV. "Can you tell me some of the parts you got?" she asked, wanting to keep him engaged in conversation, hopefully distracting him from the obvious heightened tension of the group.

"We got a battery, and a belt, and another battery from another car, and…" he went on, listing everything he could remember from his excursions with Dale and T-Dog in her absence.

Jenna made sure to remain attentive to the conversation while she cleaned herself up a bit in the bathroom with him sitting on the edge of the sink, asking him a few questions every now and then to keep him talking. In the meantime, she was wondering how Carl was holding up, and hoping to God that he made it through whatever had happened to him. Those two shots in the woods…what had happened? Had Carl been shot once, or twice? And by whom? Someone that girl on the horse knew, perhaps?

"…and Dale let me hold the belt so he could get the other thing from the car," Thao finished, beaming proudly.

Jenna smirked. "Is _that_ why your hands are so dirty?" she assumed, wiping the remnants of oil from his small fingers after she'd cleaned the dirt and grime from her face and neck. "Sounds like you had a very busy day, buddy."

"Did you guys find Sophia in the trees?" he inquired curiously.

She felt a sharp stab assault her heart, suppressing a defeated sigh. "No, not today. Hopefully we find her tomorrow, though. And Thao—can you do me a favor?" He nodded, looking up at her intently. "Don't ask Carol about Sophia, alright?"

"How come?" he wondered, frowning.

"Because she's very worried about Sophia, and thinking about her makes her sad," Jenna explained. "So let's not talk about Sophia anymore, alright, buddy?"

He nodded. "Okay."

She ruffled his hair and kissed his head, turning her head when she heard someone moving through the RV. Andrea stalked past the opened bathroom door, heading for the bed in the back where her bag was, presumably. Jenna picked Thao up from the edge of the sink, opting to carry him rather than have him walk in front of her through the vehicle—right now, she just felt better holding her boy close. With everything else going on around them, she was terrified that if she looked away from him for even a moment, he'd be ripped away from her.

"Are you alright?" Jenna asked Andrea carefully as she stepped into the narrow aisle.

"Just perfect," Andrea replied snidely, digging through her bag with her back turned to Jenna.

Jenna didn't question the woman further and just carried Thao back out of the RV, leaving Andrea to her thoughts. She couldn't really blame her for her attitude—Jenna could only assume that if she'd had such a close call, she'd be in a piss-poor mood too.

She looked up at the evening sky, taking note of the darkened shade of gray-blue. It would be dark soon.

"I won't do it," Carol was saying as Jenna came upon the group outside the RV. "We can't just leave," she insisted.

"Carol, the group is split," Dale said with a sigh.

"What if she comes back, an' we're not here?" she demanded, looking around at the rest of their sympathetic faces. "It could happen," she maintained in a weak voice.

"If Sophia found her way back, and we were gone, that would be _awful_," said Andrea as she exited the RV, looking to have cleaned herself up as well.

Jenna found that they were in agreement, perhaps for the very first time. If they left the highway, and Sophia did manage to make it back, only to find it vacant…that would be more than _awful_. That would just be cruel. And there was no telling what would become of the little girl at that point; she might take off in search of them, getting lost again, or stay put only to be attacked by walkers…or passing strangers.

"Okay," said Daryl calmly, thoughtfully. "We gotta plan for this. I say tomorrow mornin's soon enough to pull up stakes. Give us a chance to rig a big sign, leave 'er some supplies. I'll hold here tonight an' stay with the RV," he assured Carol.

Jenna was mildly surprised—she'd never seen Daryl so calm, or heard him speak in such a gentle tone. It just went to show how truly different he was from his older brother. He genuinely cared about other people, whether he wanted to admit it or not. As callous as it was to think in such a way, Jenna couldn't help but to wonder if being separated from Merle was more beneficial to Daryl than it was detrimental.

"If the RV's stayin, I am too," Dale decided, nodding at Carol.

Dusty moved toward the older woman and took hold of her hand comfortingly, wordlessly declaring her position; she wasn't going to leave Carol's side in a hurry.

"Thank you," said Carol in a soft voice, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Thank all of you," she added, meeting Daryl's gaze, and he nodded back silently.

"I'm in," said Andrea, putting her hands up and letting them fall back down at her sides a little wearily.

"Well, if you're all staying, then I'm—" Glenn began.

"Not you, Glenn," Dale cut him off adamantly. "You're going. Take Carol's Cherokee," he instructed, pointing at the vehicle.

Glenn sighed in exasperated disbelief. "Me?" he asked. "Why's it always _me_?"

While Jenna didn't think now was the best time to be debating this, she couldn't help but to note that it was a valid question; why _was_ it always Glenn? Why did everyone just seem to expect him to be the one to put his ass on the line, venturing into dangers both known and unknown? She'd thought that he volunteered most of the time for these missions, but perhaps she was a bit mistaken.

"I'll go," Jenna told him, speaking up for the first time since she'd joined the misshaped circle.

"You're takin someone with ya, Minnie," Daryl informed her, his tone not one to be debated with. "It ain't jus' gonna be you."

"Glenn, you go with her," Dale maintained. "You have to find this farm, reconnect with our people, and see what's going on, but most important—you have to get T-Dog there." Jenna turned her gaze to follow Dale's gesture to see T-Dog sitting at the rear bumper of the RV with a blanket around his shoulders, looking much, much worse than the last time she'd seen him that morning.

"This is not an option," Dale went on. "That cut has gone from bad to worse. He has a _very serious_ blood infection. Get him to that farm," he told Jenna and Glenn intently. "See if they have any antibiotics, because if not, T-Dog'll die, no joke."

Jenna just nodded, looking back over at T-Dog. Was anything _else_ going to go wrong today?

"Keep your oily rags off my brother's motorcycle," Daryl griped, and Jenna turned her head back around in time to see him toss said oily rag at Dale, before setting a large Ziploc bag full of prescription containers on the hood of the Cherokee. "Why'd you wait 'til now to say anythin? Got my brother's stash."

They all watched, stunned, as Daryl proceeded to rifle through the bag's contents. "Crystal…X—don't need that—got some kickass painkillers," he said, tossing a container to Glenn, and then turning back to his bag. "Doxycycline," he added, tossing the medicine to Dale. "Not the generic stuff neither—that's firs' class. Merle got the clap on occasion," he explained with a little shrug before returning the bag to his Triumph.

Jenna closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Thanks for that, Daryl," she mumbled. That was definitely _not_ a visual she needed.

While Dale administered the antibiotics to T-Dog, Jenna and Glenn prepared the Cherokee for the journey to the farm, with help from Dusty and Daryl. Dusty had Thao's backpack assembled and stowed away in the trunk of the car, and Daryl made sure to have both Jenna and Glenn study the map so they would have no chance of getting lost on the back road, that night of all nights.

"You should bring a gun," Jenna said to Glenn as she stowed her own backpack into the trunk along with the others. "Never know what we're gonna encounter on the way there."

He nodded and headed to the RV where the gun bag was stored away. Jenna accepted the keys to the Cherokee from Carol, and an embrace from the woman.

"Y'all be safe out there," she urged her and Thao, smoothing down the boy's hair affectionately.

"We will," Jenna assured her, and looked both her and Dusty in the eyes intently as they stood beside the car, waiting to depart. "You too. Keep your guard up. There are only five of you out here now."

"Don't you worry 'bout us," Dusty insisted, wrapping her arms around Jenna tightly. "Jus' get to that farm, an' get there in one piece, ya hear? You sure you don't want the big guy to stay with us tonight?" she asked as they parted.

Jenna nodded, _very_ sure of that. There was no way in hell she was going to leave Thao out on this highway all night without her.

Once T-Dog was seated in the back, slumped over in the upholstery, and Glenn had retrieved a Remington pump-action shotgun from the bag, they were ready to head out. Dusty leaned down and held Thao by the face, kissing him on his head gently, seeing that it was time to say goodbye for the rest of the night.

"'Night, big guy," she said. "See you in the mornin, okay?"

"Goodnight, Dusty," he said, wrapping his arms around her legs for a moment.

"Get there safe, all of you," Dale urged them as Jenna loaded Thao into the passenger seat, getting him buckled in, and handing the map to Glenn before he slipped into the backseat next to T-Dog.

"We will," Jenna assured them—Jesus, did they seriously think she'd get lost or something on the way? She could read a damn map.

With that, she started up the old Cherokee and carefully maneuvered around to head back the way they'd come the day before. Once she was facing the right direction, she gave the others a little wave before cruising down the road, away from the frozen traffic jam. It didn't take long at all to find Fairburn Road, and while they drove along in silence, Jenna found herself wondering what exactly they would be met with when they reached this farm.

The way things had been going today, Jenna's hopes weren't particularly high.

* * *

**Note:**

Sorry about the delayed update. My muse was running a bit low, but I'm getting back on track. I do have quite a few of the later chapters already completed, though. I just need to get the in-between chapters done too.

Also, I'd like to thank you all for your reviews, they keep me motivated! A special thanks to **Endless Questions** for all of your reviews! Anybody who likes a good Daryl/OC story should check out her page.


	29. Unraveling

**Disclaimer: I truly and honestly will never be the owner of The Walking Dead. No copyright intended. **

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, suggestive themes, and eventual smut. (Probably should've mentioned that a _long_ time ago.)

* * *

_"When you get to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on."_

_—Franklin D. Roosevelt_

* * *

Unraveling

**_Seattle, Washington; May 26th_**

The Sea-Tac airport was crowded with travelers of all kinds as the duo made their way through the main terminal through the crowd. Danny had his free arm around Jenna's shoulders so as not to lose her in said crowd—she was small, and those things tended to happen to her frequently. They followed the signs, heading for the security line and trying to be quick about it; due to traffic, Danny was running a bit behind schedule.

"Ah, this is where we part ways, babe," he said when they reached their destination, coming to a stop a few feet away from the winding line. "Gotta go a whole week and a half without me—how're you gonna survive?"

She laughed and rolled her eyes as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and he pulled her in close for a hug. "I dunno—I'll figure something out."

"You and Kenzie better not go and get yourselves killed while I'm gone," he mock warned.

"No promises," she mumbled into his shoulder, and he chuckled.

"Yeah, well, that good-for-nothin you call a boyfriend better keep you safe while I'm gone," he said as they parted enough to be able to face each other. "Don't want you breakin a bone or anything before you even get to Georgia."

She rolled her eyes again, smirking up at him. "You think _all_ of my boyfriends are good-for-nothings," she chided.

He shrugged. "Yeah, well, none of em have earned the Daniel Kendrick Seal of Approval—so they _are_ all good-for-nothins as far as I'm concerned."

"Will _anyone_ ever earn the Daniel Kendrick Seal of Approval?" Jenna asked wryly.

"Nope," he said, giving the P in _nope_ a strong pop, and she had to laugh at his smug little smirk. "You're too good for all of em, Mouse," he said, wrapping an arm around the back of her neck and pulling her in for another hug.

She sighed and inhaled his familiar scent; Old Spice cologne and leather, courtesy of his customary motorcycle jacket. "I'll miss you, man," she told him honestly.

"I'll miss you too, Mouse," he replied. "But you know, you could be comin with me instead of waiting a week and a half. I guess the boyfriend trumps your sidekick," he whined in a show of hurt, pouting pitifully to make her laugh.

"No one trumps the sidekick," she reminded him needlessly. "And _the boyfriend_ has a name. We've been dating for three years, you're gonna have to get used to him."

The plan had originally been for her and Danny to fly out to Georgia together that day to visit his family for the summer, but when Alex had managed to get leave and had surprised Jenna by coming home to Seattle early, she'd decided to stay until he had to return to Missouri, where he was stationed. Spending so much time away from her best friend and roommate was going to be a bit of an adjustment—since they were kids, she and Danny had spent practically every day together—but she and Alex rarely got any time together anymore with him being stationed at a marine base so far away. And, he said he had a surprise for her that she wouldn't want to miss…what could she say?

Danny groaned, tossing his head back in exasperation, and Jenna could only smirk. He liked to give anyone she dated a hard time, and he liked to complain about them, but in reality, he was just hyper-protective of "his girls." Jenna and their mutual friend, Mackenzie, could always count on Danny's protection, if nothing else was certain.

"Oh, don't give me that," she chided, ruffling his ceaselessly messy sandy-brown hair. "And hurry up—you'll miss your flight, and Nana will have a heart attack if you aren't there in time."

"Alright," he groused, "I'll call you when I land, and here"—he pulled his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and pushed a five dollar bill into her hand—"get yourself some coffee before you head out. It's been almost four hours since you were last caffeinated."

He knew her so well.

"Yes, sir," she said amusedly, stuffing the bill into her back pocket. "Have a safe flight, I'll be joining you soon enough," she said as they shared a kiss on the cheek.

"Will do. Drive safe, Mouse," he urged as he released her and hoisted his duffle bag over his shoulder again.

"Will do," she mirrored, giving him a wink as they parted ways.

Jenna had a last fleeting glance of him dropping his bag onto the conveyor belt and emptying his pockets of all things metal, and catching the eye of the security woman on the other side of the belt, before Jenna was headed back down to the main terminal, where she knew there was a Starbucks somewhere.

Jenna smirked to herself. She could hardly blame the woman, even though she had to be at least twenty years older than them. Danny attracted much, much female attention—the man looked like a younger, better-looking version of James Dean, complete with the white t-shirt and blue jeans combination. He drew in more girls than a flame drew in moths.

It wasn't long before she found herself in a rather long line at the small café, and she turned her attention to the small television mounted on the wall at her right while she waited, shifting her weight from one foot to another. It was a frightening image that was being displayed on the screen; a man on a stretcher was being hoisted into the back of an ambulance, a large bloody chunk missing from his shoulder. Frowning, Jenna tried to catch what the reporter was saying about the situation, but his voice was drowned out in all of the noise of the crowded airport.

_Ouch…what the hell…?_ She wondered, staring at the gory wound in the man's shoulder.

"Miss, are you ready to order?" the barista asked from the other side of the counter, attracting Jenna's attention.

"Oh, yeah—sorry," she said, turning her eyes away from the television.

**_End Flashback_**

Jenna leaned back in the driver's seat of the old Cherokee, one hand gripping the steering wheel and the other hanging out of the open window lazily, lost in her thoughts as she drove down the back road under the darkened sky. The car was silent, with Jenna and Glenn both thinking to themselves, T-Dog almost passed out in the backseat, and Thao conked out in the passenger seat.

That had been the last week of normalcy, before everything went to hell. There had been a few more strange reports on the news like the one she'd seen at the Sea-Tac airport—people being attacked by crazed individuals, suffering from nasty bite wounds—and then, one day, out of nowhere, the state of the world had completely capsized.

Jenna often wondered how different things would be if she had gone to Georgia with Danny, as planned. In the beginning, before Thao, she had often wished that was the way things had started out. If she had been in Georgia with Danny, things might not have been as bad for her as they were. She would at least have had him through it all, if nothing else. She would at least know with certainty what had happened to him. But, on the other hand, she wouldn't know what had become of her family, and Alex. She wouldn't have been able to bury them.

In the beginning, Jenna was torn between wishing she had been in Georgia with Danny, and grateful that she hadn't been. She at least had closure as far as her family was concerned, but in way, she sometimes wished she didn't…sometimes she wished that she didn't know they were dead, because at least that wouldn't torment her.

But now that Thao was in the picture, Jenna wouldn't change her journey from Washington to Georgia—despite all the hell she'd gone through, she'd found Thao. And that made up for everything. The only thing missing was a large piece of her heart, which had and always would belong to Danny. Before, the fact that she didn't know whether he was alive or dead used to kill her—used to drive her out of her mind with worry and regret and remorse. But she didn't live for herself anymore. She lived for Thao.

It was completely dark by the time the farmhouse was visible in the distance, the lights shining through the windows. It was a large house, to say the least, and though it was dark, Jenna could see that it had obviously been built many, many years ago, when people actually used to put time and effort into the craftsmanship of constructing the scenic abode.

Jenna pulled the Cherokee to a stop in the dirt and gravel driveway beneath a tall tree in front of the house, looking back at T-Dog, who was sitting up straight again.

"You alright?" she asked warily, seeing the undertone of sickly pallor in his dark face.

He nodded a little wearily. "I'm good," he assured them unconvincingly. "Let's just get inside, see what we can do."

With that, they were exiting the vehicles, and Jenna gently picked Thao up out of his seat, holding him so that his head was resting in the crook of her shoulder, and his weight was settled mostly on her hip.

"So do we…ring the bell, or…?" Glenn asked uncertainly as they approached the brick steps of the front porch, Remington in hand.

"We could just ask," Jenna noted, nodding at the young woman sitting on an old rocking chair to the side of the door, hidden partially in the shadows. It was the same young woman who'd shown up in the woods on horseback and rescued Andrea.

Glenn and T-Dog followed her gaze to spot the woman, seeing her for the first time.

"You close the gate up the road when you drove in?" the woman asked them, sitting with her legs crossed in front of her on the chair, observing them with mild curiosity.

"Uh…hi…" stammered Glenn a little nervously. "Yes, we closed it. Did the…latch and everything…" The woman lowered her feet to the ground and leaned forward in the chair, giving Glenn a small smirk. "Well, uh…nice to see you again," he continued after a pause. "We met before—briefly—"

"Look, we came to help," interrupted T-Dog wearily as the woman rose out of her seat and approached them. "There anything were can do?" he groaned.

She took note of the bloodied bandage around his forearm, alarm coloring her features.

"It's not a bite," Jenna assured her, assuming that was what had the woman worried. "He cut himself pretty badly though, and it looks like it's infected. We didn't have anything to close up the wound."

"We'll have it looked at," the woman said then, and turned her attention to Thao's sleeping form in Jenna's hold. "An' your boy can come in an' lay down on the couch," she offered kindly.

"Thank you," said Jenna, following the woman inside, Glenn and T-Dog at her heels.

She led them to the living room, and Jenna lay Thao down onto the plush cushions of the couch as gently as she could, brushing his hair back and kissing him on the forehead lightly before following after Glenn and T-Dog, who were being led through a hallway. They came to a stop at the doorway of what appeared to be a guest room, to find the Grimes family all situated around the large bed, along with two others they didn't know.

Carl lay in the middle of the bed, the wound on his right side visible through the bloodied dressing. He was deathly pale, and Jenna's heart sank at the sight of the injured child. He looked like he was barely hanging on…as did Lori and Rick.

In fact, Rick looked almost as bad as Carl. He looked…chalky as a corpse, which was a frightening sight.

"Hey," Glenn greeted hesitantly after a pause.

Rick looked up from his son, noticing them for the first time. "Hey," he replied weakly.

"Um…we're here, okay?" Glenn added after a moment of tense silence in the room.

Lori nodded at them, tears in her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Whatever you need," T-Dog assured them solemnly, though it was obvious to everyone present that there would be _very_ little that they could do for the Grimes family.

"Rick, what happened to you?" Jenna asked in concern, stepping forward slowly, as T-Dog was led out of the room by Glenn and the young brunette woman, presumably to have his injured arm examined, as promised.

"He's been givin a lotta blood," said the old white-haired man who was currently checking Carl's blood pressure. "He's the only one here who's A-positive, like his son."

"A-positive?" Jenna asked, stunned. "Carl's A-positive?" Rick, Lori, and the old man nodded, eyeing her in varying degrees of puzzlement. "I'm A-positive."

The old man considered that a moment. "You sure?" he asked eventually.

Jenna nodded quickly. "I'm not immediate family, but there's nothing wrong with me," she assured them. "If there was, I wouldn't be offering."

"That's fortunate," said the old man. "His pressure's droppin—we'll need to do another transfusion."

Jenna nodded and removed her jacket, tossing it to the side carelessly, and moved forward to take a seat in the empty chair at the wounded boy's bedside as the old man had indicated wordlessly. In a flash, the other unknown person in the room, a pretty woman in her forties with curly blonde hair and a flower print dress, was at Jenna's side with a glass bottle and some tubes and needle.

_This_ was the blood transfusion equipment? The setup looked either very old-fashioned, or so absolutely dangerous that the procedure should've probably been illegal. But, Jenna told herself that Rick had undergone a similar procedure—a few times, from the looks of it—and he wasn't dead.

So far.

"Thank you, Jenna," Rick managed in a startlingly weakened voice. "Thank you, for doin this for our boy."

"Of course," Jenna said, waving a hand as the blood began to flow from her right arm and into the sketchy contraption that had her and Carl connected. "You don't have to thank me," she assured the couple, finally taking note of just how broken down they both looked. Lori seemed to be at her wits end, barely hanging on to her sanity—she was far too quiet as she stared fixedly at her unconscious child, undiluted horror in her eyes. Rick looked like he was about to be joining his son in that bed any second. _These poor parents…_ she thought helplessly.

"Where's your boy?" Rick asked eventually, not removing his gaze from Carl's still and pale form. All three of them were staring down at him, silently willing him to hang on.

"Asleep on the couch in the living room," Jenna replied quietly, as though speaking too loudly might disturb the boy in the bed. "Where's Shane?"

"Him an' Russell went on a run up to a FEMA shelter for supplies, five miles out," Rick replied, and Jenna's stomach was in knots now. How long ago had it been since they'd gone…? "Otis took em. Should be back any minute…" Rick trailed off.

"Who's Otis?" Jenna asked, hoping to distract herself from the encroaching anxiety.

"Patricia's husband," Rick answered, nodding at the woman who was now removing the needle from Jenna's arm and wrapping the puncture mark. Patricia remained silent, a solemn set to her face, as she finished up Jenna's arm and exited the room.

"What's everyone's name?" Jenna asked when silence had settled upon them once again. She couldn't take the silence now—her mind was going crazy with all of the horrible possibilities before them. She didn't care what they talked about, as long as it kept all of them distracted, even for a short time.

"Hershel, he's the doctor," Rick replied, seeing as Lori couldn't seem to form words. Jenna doubted whether she even heard them. "This is his farm. Maggie, his daughter, is the one who brought y'all in here. There's another daughter somewhere, Beth. An' her boyfriend's livin here now too—Jimmy."

Well, that didn't take as long as Jenna had hoped. So she changed tack. "There were two shots…what happened?"

"We were out lookin for Sophia, an' saw this deer," Rick answered after a moment, seeming to be working to get the words out. "I swear it jus'…planted itself there right in front of us. Carl got close to it. Otis was trackin it—out huntin—didn't see Carl until his shot went through both of em…"

Rick closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he ducked his head. And Jenna could've kicked herself for even asking.

"The second shot was Russell," Rick went on after composing himself. "Thought we were bein attacked, or somethin, an' shot back before we could even see who was out there."

Hmm. So Daryl had been right after all. Russell was responsible for one of the shots. As jumpy as he seemed to be most of the time, that really didn't surprise Jenna. So why in the hell had they taken him along to get surgical supplies? He wouldn't make very good backup, Jenna was sure. Even if she didn't already have a bad feeling about his intentions with Dusty, Jenna wouldn't have opted to bring him along to cover her ass. But, maybe they didn't exactly have a lot of options. Beggars couldn't be choosers.

She just hoped they made it back in one piece, with the supplies necessary for Carl's surgery. Things had to start going right at some point, didn't they?

* * *

Jenna's heavily-lidded eyes opened at the sound of Rick's whispery chuckle, and she honestly worried that the man was losing hold of his sanity. He'd given so much blood—too much blood—so it wasn't just the mental trauma of his son's possible death that was taking its toll on him, it was a very real, tangible weakness that was steadily wearing him down.

"Lori, did you ever hear 'bout the time Shane stole Kingsley's car?" Rick asked his wife, a goofy smile on his face along with his faraway gaze. "The _principal's_ car—it was legendary."

"Yeah," Lori whispered in response, though it didn't sound like she was really listening, and her gaze was steadily fixed onto her unconscious son.

"Stole it right outta the teacher's lot in the middle of the school day," Rick went on, a definite hint of admiration in his voice. "Shane steps outta lunch an' makes a B-line to Kingsley's Hyundai. Wires the ignition, peels out, drives outta the lot down Dillon Drive to that chicken farm out there. He pulls it into one of the big holdin pens… Kingsley, he waxed that thing every month, had the auto shop vacuum it out every week… But Shane…he parks it in this huge pen with a couple'a hundred Rhode Island Reds. He busts open bags of seed in the back seat, rolls down all the winduhs…an' then starts sprinting back to school…"

Rick's weariness seemed to be affecting his speech, for his southern drawl had never been more pronounced than it was now, but Jenna was still able to follow him. It had taken her a second to understand that Rhode Island Reds were chickens, though. But she had to laugh—quietly as a whisper, due to the somber atmosphere of the room and her own weariness. Not only did this sound like something Danny would've done back in high school—not that there was an abundance of chicken farms in Seattle—but somehow, she could just see a teenaged Shane Walsh terrorizing the school's principal that way.

Rick gave Jenna a slight smirk, having heard her quiet laughter. "It's three miles away, easy," he went on, lost in the memory of simpler days. "But he's back in time to finish his sandwich before the bell. Then the bell rings, an' Shane gets up, an' when he runs into Kingsley in the hallway he looks out the winduh an' says, 'Principal Kingsley, your coupe's gone.'"

Jenna let out a small laugh again, and Rick grinned, looking at his wife. "Coupe, like chicken coop," he explained to her.

"I get it," Lori whispered, her eyes never leaving her son's face.

Rick nodded, all humor gone from his expression now. "Of course you do," he said softly. "You've heard this story a thousand times. What you said before, you're right," he told his wife. "Shane's gonna make it back with what the doctor needs. He'll make it back… Carl's gonna be alright."

Lori looked far from moved by her husband's reassuring words, and tears rolled silently down her blotchy face as she stared down at her son.

Jenna didn't even want to imagine the hell both of them were going through. She wasn't a mother, not really, but if Thao was in that bed instead of Carl…Jenna knew that she would've lost her fucking mind long before now.

Hershel entered the room then, holding out what looked like a glass of orange juice for Jenna to take.

"Drink this," he instructed as she accepted the glass. "You need to keep your blood-sugar up, or else you're liable to pass out."

Jenna nodded and took an obliging swig of the sweet drink—when was the last time she'd had orange juice? She honestly couldn't remember. She didn't voice the fact that she felt close to passing out already. She was working on her third sleepless night, and after having a unit of blood drained from her, she was definitely feeling the effects. Vaguely, she wondered how long it would take before she eventually did pass out—and she was sure that she would. Because she wasn't going to be sleeping voluntarily tonight, either. Far too much was going on, far too much was going _wrong_, for her mind to be settled enough to allow for the luxury of sleep.

"How's Thao?" Jenna asked Hershel as he settled down onto the edge of the mattress beside Carl, one hand on the boy's wrist to measure his heart rate.

"The little boy out there?" Hershel presumed, and Jenna nodded. "He's just fine. Still sleepin."

Jenna nodded, glad for that bit of news, and leaned back into her seat, finishing off the tall glass of orange juice. She set the glass down on the little side table and let her head lean against the back of the chair, her eyes closing of their own accord. They were so heavy…

"Are you alright, Miss?" Hershel's voice asked, bringing her back to the present.

She forced her eyes open to see the concern on the old man's face, and nodded. "I'm fine, just going on a long, hard day after a sleepless night—just catching up to me, is all."

Whether or not Hershel had any doubts about her claim was to remain a mystery, for in that moment, there was movement from Carl as the boy stirred, and his eyes opened slowly. He took in his surroundings as he gasped for breath, startled and obviously in a great deal of pain as he looked from his parents to the stranger at his other side.

"Where are we?" Carl panted.

"That's Hershel," Rick told his son, beaming down at him, overjoyed to see him awake and coherent. "We're in his house. Ya…ya had an accident," he reminded the boy.

"It h-hurts…a lot…" Carl groaned, still struggling to catch his breath.

Lori looked close to sobbing. "Oh, baby, I know," she murmured in a quaking voice, stroking his hair back gently.

Then Carl seemed to gain control of himself a bit as he gazed up at his mother. "You shoulda seen it," he said. "The deer. It was so pretty, mom. It was so close. I…I've never been…"

The last word died off in silence and Jenna watched, her chest filling with dread, as Carl's body sank back into the mattress like dead weight and his eyes turned absolutely vacant. A slow, ghostly breath escaped his pale lips, and Jenna was morbidly reminded of something she'd learned years ago in one of her science classes; in some cases, the air that was still in the lungs of a dead body would be expelled, and it would come out sounding like an exhaling breath. And Jenna couldn't stop herself from thinking she had a very clear idea now as to how that would sound.

"Carl?" Rick asked in alarm, both he and Lori leaning closer to their son, the horror having found its way back into their expressions.

"What's happening?" Lori asked Hershel as Jenna rose to her feet in anxiety. She'd never seen a child die like this before, and, as petty and weak as it might make her, it was just not something she was prepared to see. She felt a sudden urge to rush back to the living room to Thao—to wrap her arms around him and be sure that he was alive and well, despite everything else.

In the next moment, however, she was absolutely frozen in place, staring down in horrification as Carl's body suddenly began to convulse violently. It was horrible…she didn't know what was happening, but it was horrible to watch…

"Don't, it's a seizure," urged Hershel when both Rick and Lori tried to hold their son still. "You hold 'im down, you could hurt 'im."

"You can't stop it?" Lori demanded in panic.

"He has to just go through it," Hershel informed them solemnly, moving the pillows to the side so they were out of the way of the convulsing child.

Jenna stepped back slightly to be out of the way, and could only watch the poor child ride out the seizure. She felt completely and utterly powerless, and she didn't even want to look in the Grimes' direction, knowing what she was likely to see there; the embodiment of her own twisted up emotions, only amplified significantly.

Finally, _finally_, Carl's body relaxed and stilled again, and Hershel leaned forward and checked his vitals immediately.

"His brain isn't gettin enough blood," Hershel told them grimly. "His pressure's bottoming—he needs another transfusion."

"Okay, I'm ready," said Rick immediately, looking anything but ready.

Hershel shook his head adamantly. "If I take anymore outta you, your body could shut down an' you'll go into a coma, or cardiac arrest—"

"You're wastin time," Rick said stubbornly, holding his arm out.

"Take it from me," Jenna demanded then, shaking herself out of her stupor—there was a little boy's life on the line here, and he couldn't afford for her to lose herself to fear and anxiety. "I'm ready."

Hershel gave her a cursory glance, and seemed to accept the fact that, given his options, Jenna was really the best choice he had. As small and drained as she already was, she was in better condition than Rick, at the very least.

And she had less people who would miss her, in any case.

Hershel was quick about setting up the transfusion equipment, and Jenna sat back in the chair as more blood was drained out of her, listening to Lori's endless tirade of "thank you, thank you," all the while. As the blood exited her system, Jenna could practically feel the sparse energy she had left moving right out of her body along with it. Things were steadily unraveling, and the only thing Jenna's blood could do was hold off that inevitability for a short time. Soon…soon it wouldn't be enough…

_Shane, where are you?_ She wondered desperately.


	30. Shadows and Whispers

**Disclaimer: I am not the owner of The Walking Dead, I'm just a weirdo who gets ideas every time I watch an episode. **

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, suggestive themes, and eventual smut. _Eventual_.

* * *

_"For your hands are stained with blood, your fingers with guilt. Your lips have spoken falsely, and your tongue mutters wicked things."_

_—Isaiah 59:3_

* * *

Shadows and Whispers

Jenna wasn't sure when she'd dozed off in the chair at Carl's other bedside, or for how long, but she was brought back to consciousness by movement around her; Hershel was sitting at the edge of the bed, checking Carl's blood pressure again. Jenna blinked her eyes a few times to clear up her hazy vision, and judging by the old man's grim expression, the prognosis wasn't good. She cast her eyes over Carl's unconscious form, and that suspicion was only confirmed. If it weren't for the slow, shallow breaths the boy was taking, Jenna would've assumed him to be dead. His skin was so chalky and he was so still…just looking at the poor boy gave Jenna the extremely disturbing sensation that she was staring at the dead body of a child.

"He's still losin blood faster than we can replace it," Hershel told Rick and Lori, who looked to be losing hold of the end of their rope.

Jenna sat up in her chair, her head spinning slightly. "Take it from me," she insisted again, her voice not her own—she'd never sounded so thoroughly exhausted and weak before in all her life.

Hershel shook his head and raised a hand out to keep her in her seat. "No ma'am, that's not going to happen," he contradicted. "You're too thin to be givin anymore, an' I've taken too much outta'ya as it is. An' with the swelling in his abdomen, we can't wait any longer, or he's jus' going to slip away…" he said, turning to Rick and Lori again.

The couple slowly rose out of their seats, holding onto each other for support, both physical and emotional. From the looks of things, Lori was steady circling down the rabbit hole, and Rick was in no condition to pull her out of it—Jenna wondered how close he was to the edge himself.

"Now, I need to know _right now_ if you want me to do this," Hershel continued intently, trying for their sakes to remain calm. To be the solid foundation for the shaken and unhinged parents. "Because I think your boy is outta time."

It was such a cruel decision. Choosing between a surgery that would most likely kill their son, or just letting him slip away… Either way, they were practically just left with the choice of _how_ Carl would die, not whether or not he would. It was cruel. So, so cruel. The slim, shaky, _feeble_ chance that Carl would survive the surgery was so unlikely that it was practically just a mockery. Just barely there enough to induce a faint glimmer of hope, just for that hope to be extinguished when it was all said and done.

So, _so_ cruel.

"You have to make a choice," Hershel urged the couple sharply when they'd remained silent.

Lori spun her head around and glared wildly at the old man. "A _choice_?" she demanded in a shaky, broken voice.

Rick spun her back around and gripped her by the shoulders tightly. "A choice," he mirrored intently, leaning in so that his eyes were locked with hers. "You have to tell me what it is…you _have_ to tell me…" he begged in a whisper.

Jenna slowly, unsteadily, rose out of her seat. Surgery or not, whatever decision Lori made, a little boy was going to die in that room tonight, and Jenna did not want to be there to witness it. As petty as it was, as weak and cowardly as that may have made her…that was just not something that she wanted burned into her memory. Not that image. And she was of no further use in that room, in any case. Either she'd be taking up space in a vigil she had no place in, or she'd be in the way during a surgery with a tragic end.

"I'm sorry," she choked out in a barely audible whisper that no one heard, and carefully navigated her way to the door, the room just barely tilting on its axis.

"We do it," Jenna heard Lori say as she exited the room, and even though Carl's fate was inevitable, hearing those words, the words that would seal his fate, made Jenna's heart clench painfully.

Jenna had just come upon the entryway of the living room when she heard it—the sound of tires rolling over dirt and gravel. Not a moment later were Rick, Lori, and Hershel rushing through the hallway and out the front door. Jenna took a quick look at Thao, seeing that he was sound asleep on the couch where she'd left him, and followed after them, trying to be quick while trying to keep her balance at the same time.

An old blue Ford truck had just pulled to a stop near the Cherokee when Jenna stepped out onto the porch, having to grip the banister post to keep from falling over. She breathed out a heavy sigh of relief when Shane pushed the driver's side door open, two large rucksacks over his shoulders.

At first, she just watched him limp his way over toward Rick, who was approaching the truck in rushed movements, and at first, she didn't notice the obvious problem, instead allowing herself to be flooded with relief.

"Carl?" Shane asked—_begged_—in a harsh, exhausted breath.

"Still a chance," Rick assured him, much more conviction in his voice now that Shane had returned with the supplies necessary for a surgery that was now at least potentially successful.

Hershel grabbed one of the bags from Shane and spun his head around searchingly, pausing in his stride. "Otis?" he asked, the tone of his voice showing only too clearly that he was only half-hoping at that point.

"Russell?" Rick asked, his tone similar to that of Hershel's.

And that was when Jenna finally realized what was missing from this scenario. Shane hadn't gone out to that FEMA shelter alone…but he had come back alone… And she didn't need the confirmation from Shane to know that they'd been lost—she doubted any of them really did. The verbal confirmation just made it more concrete, and they could accept it then—accept that it was real.

She watched, frozen in place with a death grip on the banister post, as Shane shook his head solemnly, closed his eyes and breathed, "No…"

Hershel looked around at the rest of them, looking like a man stranded at sea. "We say _nothing_ to Patricia," he ordered all of them. "Not 'til after—I _need_ 'er!" And with that, the old man ran up the porch and through the front door with surprising speed for a man his age.

Rick stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Shane, silently expressing gratitude for his brother's dedication, and Shane returned the hug very weakly, his eyes distant and faraway. It was clear that he had been through some kind of hell. His clothes were stained with dirt and what Jenna could only assume was blood in some places. There were a few abrasions on his arms, which looked more like the kind of wound one might get taking a spill on concrete rather than from the scraping nails of a walker. His face was covered in dirt and dried sweat, much like his hair, and Jenna noticed that he seemed to be trying not to put weight on his right foot. Yes, he'd certainly been through some kind of hell, and from the looks of things, he'd barely made it out alive.

And there, in his eyes, was something that Jenna had only ever seen once before…a peculiar haunted shadow that had clouded over them just barely enough to be noticed…and only recognizable if one had the ability to recognize it...only if they knew what to look for.

And Jenna suddenly felt as though her body was being slowly filled with icy swamp water from the bottom up, forcing out any trace of relief she'd felt just moments before.

"They kept blockin us, man," whispered Shane as he and Rick parted. "_Every_ turn. Russell got mobbed, an' me an' Otis…we had nothin left but ten rounds an' he said…he said he'd cover me an' then I looked back an'…" he broke off, shaking his head and looking back at his friend with wild, horrified eyes. "I tried, Rick, I _tried_…"

Jenna closed her eyes and stepped backward slowly, moving between Glenn and T-Dog on the porch behind her, until her back met the screen door.

Shane was lying.

Whatever had happened out there…it was very different from the story he was telling Rick. Whatever had happened out there had changed him. He was not the same man he'd been just hours ago out in that churchyard, joking and laughing with her beneath the maple tree. He was not the same man, and Jenna knew that he never would be.

She reached for the door handle and pulled it open, stumbling through the threshold in her dizziness and making her way quickly through the house, heading for the back door. She couldn't be around people right now. She just _couldn't_.

She found the back door and pushed her way through it, stumbling around the back porch with her hands in her hair, _trying_ not to lose it. Trying…and slowly failing.

No, no, no…this couldn't have been happening…not now, not again, not him…

**_Brigham City, Utah; Mid June_**

Jenna looked up at the large sign that arched all the way across the road as she drove slowly forward. _Welcome to Brigham_, it read in large white letters, and beneath that in smaller lettering; _Gateway to the World's Greatest Wild Bird Refuge_. She pulled the little Chevy to a stop at the curb beside an abandoned building with a large red sign attached to the side that said HOTEL in bold yellow, vertical letters.

Taking a look around, all she saw were abandoned, weather-beaten buildings and vehicles, a few bodies littering the streets—bodies that _wouldn't_ be getting up again—and in the distance down the street, a handful of the _mobile_ dead.

Hmm. She decided to leave them for now. They weren't hurting anybody way over there, and the chances of them noticing her were slim. Even so, she would be quick about this; she'd just grab a few things and be back on the road in a hurry. After that mob in California, she'd decided to _never_ dawdle on a supply run again. Taking the time to stand around and decide on how much to carry back and what might be worth returning for had nearly cost Jenna her life. Life was all about quick decisions now.

Closing the car door quietly, just in case, Jenna kept her hand on the wooden handle of the machete tied to her belt as she roamed down the sidewalk, heading for the little grocery store just a short distance away. She was positive that it must've been ransacked long ago, but it was worth taking a look around—there had to be _something_, right?

As it turned out, there was very little of anything left, but there was something. Even though that something was just a forgotten jar of peanut butter on the ground beneath the vacant shelves. Everything else was spoiled or just gone.

It wasn't until she'd exited the store again that she was in any danger.

A horde of the dead had apparently made its way up the alley between the grocery store and the Chevy, blocking her path. _Fuck!_

Before most of them could spot her, Jenna took off at a sprint down a different alley at her left, not knowing where it would lead her, but hoping that she would be able to make it around to her car. If not, well…she'd think if something later. She had a bottle of water and a jar of peanut butter in her backpack, her Beretta stowed in her belt, her machete in her hand, and her leather jacket on—she was good to go if worse came to worse and she lost the car.

But she really didn't want to lose that car. It had taken forever to find the damn thing.

She managed to make it through the alley with very little trouble—she only had to take down two of the dead along the way—and soon, she found herself with her back pressed into the side of the building, looking around the corner at her car. It was within running distance…she could make it, she was sure. The dead were close, but she was faster…and protected by leather.

She took the chance and bolted for the car. Of course, the dead spotted her and began to shuffle in her direction, but she didn't let herself be affected by the fear. She would let herself feel fear later, when she was within the safe confines of the Chevy and far away from this horde.

Jenna pulled the driver's side door open just in time for one of the corpses to get its hands on her left arm, and she spun around, braced herself against the side of the car, and planted both feet against the rotting body, shoving it backward hard enough for it to land flat on its back. Not a moment later was she sliding into the driver's seat and starting up the car, pealing out and yanking the door closed at the same time. She spun the vehicle around in the most reckless U-turn of her life, running over the fallen corpse's legs in the process, and slammed her foot on the gas pedal, speeding away from the horde before it had the chance to surround her.

It was then that she was speeding away that she noticed the flailing arms of a _living_ person behind her, dangerously close to the horde.

What the _fuck_?

She hadn't seen another living person in weeks, and from the looks of things, he wasn't going to be living much longer. He was flailing his arms above his head while he ran—not as fast as he could've been running if he were to drop the bulky rucksack strapped to his back—obviously trying to get her attention. If the idiot would've just focused on running, he'd have been fine.

Cursing under her breath, Jenna slammed on the breaks, bringing the car to a screeching halt, before throwing it into reverse and accelerating quickly, looking over her shoulder as she neared the young man—and the horde right behind him.

She threw the passenger door open before she'd even come to a stop, and shifted the Chevy into drive again.

"Help! Help me! Don't leave me!" the man hollered desperately as he neared the car.

"_Get in!_" she yelled back.

What the fuck did it look like she was doing?

As soon as the man dove into the car, Jenna was pealing out again, tires screeching in protest at the sudden acceleration. The man pulled the door shut and leaned back in the seat, gasping for air and sweating bullets. His shaggy dark hair was plastered to his forehead with moisture, and he looked for all the world like he'd just completed a marathon.

"Thank you," he huffed after a few minutes, his chest still heaving. "Thank you…you just saved my life…"

"Yeah, no problem," she replied as she drove down the road, exiting the city limits again, and wondering what exactly she was going to do now. How far did this guy expect her to take him? How far would she be willing to take him?

"I'm Martin," he panted, shifting his arms out from the straps of his bulky bag and settling it on the floor between his legs. "Martin Connors. You got a name?"

She deliberated for a moment, and then decided she might as well answer. "Jenna Wolfe."

He nodded, seeming to consider that for a moment, before suddenly pulling a Colt revolver from his belt that she hadn't noticed, and aimed it at her head. "Jenna Wolfe," he said in a startlingly calm voice, "stop the car, and get out."

Heart in her throat, Jenna nodded, very aware of the gun leveled at the side of her head, and pulled the car to a slow stop, shifting it in park and cutting the ignition. She rested her hands on the steering wheel so he could see them, and not have an excuse to shoot her.

"Good, very good," said Martin in that eerily calm voice as she stared straight ahead through the windshield. "Now, take off the backpack, leave all your weapons, and get out of the car."

_Now or never. _

She swung her arm out, hard and fast, and knocked his arm to the side to bring herself out of his line of fire—just in time for him to pull the trigger. The blast erupted within the confines of the small car, and the driver's side window behind her shattered. He'd missed her by a few inches.

She'd turned herself around in the seat so that she was facing him, and that gave her the opportunity to smash her knee up into his face. She twisted her arm around his and clamped it to her side, disabling him from getting his revolver aimed at her again with his gun-toting hand forced behind her back. He was quick to react, however, and shot his right fist forward, making contact with her left eye. She yelped in pain, but refused to let go of her bind on his left arm no matter how much he fought to pull it free, knowing she would surely die if he did.

He climbed toward her, practically on top of her in the closed quarters of the front of the car, grabbed her by the hair, and gave her head a rough shake before trying to slam it back into the shattered window.

With her shoulders shoved into the door of the car, and Martin's weight on top of her, Jenna really didn't have much room to maneuver. So she shoved her left arm forward and jabbed her thumb into his right eye with as much force as she could muster, digging it in deep. He howled and released her hair to rip her hand away from his face.

He was distracted, but it would only last for a few more moments, Jenna knew. She had to make her move now.

Reaching behind her with her left hand, she pulled the Beretta from her belt, having to tug it free rather unsafely in the position she was in. Just as Martin moved his hand away from his face and opened his eyes again, glowering murderously down at her, Jenna pulled the trigger, sending one round just above the bridge of his bloody nose.

Martin's dead weight fell onto her completely then, and she finally released her hold on his left arm, reaching around and finding the door handle. The door swung open immediately with all of the weight pushing against it, and Jenna nearly fell right onto the asphalt. If it wasn't for Martin's body pinning hers to the seat, she would have. She shoved him away from her and worked to maneuver herself out from under him, pulling herself backwards and out of the car.

As soon as she was free, she scrambled to her feet and moved around to the other side of the car, yanking open the passenger door and grabbing him by his ankles. She dragged his dead weight out of the car with much, much effort, and wasn't exactly careful about it, letting his face smack onto the asphalt with a crunch as she pulled him out of the vehicle.

She pulled the Colt from his dead fingers and stowed it away in the glove compartment before searching his pockets for any ammo. Finding a few rounds, she dropped them into her pocket and gave Martin's body a hard kick in the ribs before slamming the passenger door shut again and climbing back into the driver's seat. She started up the car and took off down the road with his rucksack still in the car, realizing she could only see out of one eye now; her left eye had swollen over.

Even so, she carefully avoided catching sight of herself in the rearview mirror, not wanting to see the angry tears that were coursing down her face.

**_Seattle, Washington; June 7_****_th_**

Pulling her old Honda Accord to a stop at the curb, Jenna looked around in horror at the massive amounts of bodies that littered the street in front of her. She'd seen a few of those things…the people who died and somehow got back to their feet for the sole purpose of inflicting the same grisly hell on the rest of the living… But these bodies that lay strewn about—in piles, in some places—they didn't look the same. Had these people been alive—really, truly alive—when they'd been killed?

And they _had_ been killed. That was obvious. It was seeing the real-life version of the documentary on the Rwanda Genocide, right there in Seattle.

She stepped out of the car, steeling herself up to make her way through that body-covered street. At the end of the block was her destination, and there was no way in hell that she was going to turn back now. Not when she was so close to him.

But was Alex even alive?

Jenna forced herself to look at the faces of the bodies she passed, as sickening as it was. The smell on its own was enough to have her stomach churning, but the thought of finding Alex's face among these dead people…that was nearly crippling.

And as she looked at the faces of the dead, Jenna made a few observations—ones that she really would've rather remained ignorant to. None of these people looked to have been bitten. They weren't missing chunks of flesh, and Jenna didn't see a single bite on any one of them. What she did see, where bullet holes—made with military precision. Most of these people had very similar gunshot wounds; two in the chest, one in the head. According to Alex, that was standard military protocol; Mozambique Drill it was called. Not only that, but looking around at the houses that lines the street, most of the doors were open, with the bodies of residents on the porches, some of them lying in the open doorways—as though the doors had been kicked open and these people were shot to death in their homes.

It had been a massacre…but _why_?

Jenna couldn't say, and all she knew, was that it filled her with so much dread it was nauseating. What would she find when she reached Alex's parents' house?

The fact that the front door of the Rhodens' house was closed, unlike the rest, gave Jenna a dangerous flash of hope. She wanted so, _so_ much to believe that Alex and his family were safe, and all manner of hopeful thoughts paraded through her mind. Perhaps they were hiding out in the basement, safe and sound, somehow having remained undetected by the homicidal troops? Or, maybe Alex had gotten them out alive, using his military connection to grant he and his family safe passage through the massacre that had occurred.

Wishful thinking notwithstanding, Jenna's stomach was in knots and her heart was racing at frightening speeds by the time she'd reached the front porch. The door was still locked…that was a good sign, wasn't it?

Knowing where they kept the spare key in case one of the boys happened to forget theirs, Jenna moved the large potted plant on the side of the porch aside and retrieved the key hidden beneath it. She pulled the Beretta from her belt, just in case—she had no idea what she'd find, and not much would surprise her by this point—and unlocked the door with an impossibly audible click.

What she saw when she pushed the door open gently, cautiously, brought her collapsing to her knees in the entryway, feeling as though both her stomach and heart had just ruptured simultaneously.

They were lying strewn about the living room, pools of blood around each of them; blood that had long-since dried. The smell was horrible, and a small swarm of flies buzzed around the living room, feeding on the bodies of Alex's family. Mr. Rhoden lay on the floor, facedown, while his wife lay slumped over on the couch, her arms still wrapped around the twins, who had their heads turned into their mother's shoulders. Andy and Kyle; two thirteen-year-old boys who'd done absolutely nothing to merit this fate. From the looks of things, Mr. Rhoden had risen to defend his wife and children, and had been gunned down in the process. Their fatal wounds were the mirror image of what she'd seen out on the street; two rounds to the upper body, one to the head.

Tears poured from Jenna's eyes as she gaped at the atrocious, bloody scene before her, but one thing had her rising to her feet again; Alex was not among them.

Before she could even begin her search of the house, wondering if she would find him alive, dead, or not at all, he stepped out from the hallway, seeming just as stunned to see her as she was to see him. His eyes were wide, looking for all the world as though he'd just seen a ghost. Jenna hadn't realized until that moment that she'd been expecting him to be dead, and for a long moment, all she could do was stand and catch her breath as the relief stripped away her prior anxieties.

"Alex," she breathed when she was finally able to recall the ability of speech. "You're _alive_…" she whispered, tears in her eyes as she strode forward to him.

"Wait," he said quickly, holding a hand out to her and taking a slight step back. "Did you get bitten? Did you get scratched?"

She shook her head quickly as she halted. "No, nothing touched me."

He took a moment to scan his eyes over her, apparently to double-check the accuracy of her claim, and then nodded, seeming satisfied. He set down his M4 assault rifle against the wall beside him as he rushed toward her. She met him halfway, colliding with him, and wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders at the same time his arms closed around her back, constricting her in his hold.

"I thought you were dead, Jenny," he said in a rough voice, both of them still holding each other tightly. "I thought you must've been dead—everyone's dead, or dying…"

"Shhh…I know, it's okay," she soothed. "I thought you were too…but I had to make sure."

He was silent for a moment, and his arms squeezed her even more tightly of their own accord. It was almost painful, but she didn't mind. He was _alive_, and right there in her arms when she'd been sure she'd lost him.

"I almost was…" he said eventually in a quiet voice.

Jenna thought of the bodies of his family just a short distance away from them, and she could only imagine how true that statement was. He could have very well been lying amongst them when she'd shown up, and she thanked God that wasn't the case.

They parted then, and she looked back over her shoulder at the bloody carnage that littered the living room.

"What happened?" she asked, looking back around at him.

He was looking to his left, staring blankly at the closed front door. "The marine unit showed up a couple days ago…their orders were containment. At first they were just killing the…corpses. There weren't very many of them. But then someone got bitten, and then…shit, I dunno, Jenny…all hell broke loose. They started killing everyone in sight, no matter if they were infected or not. It all happened so fast…"

Jenna's suspicions were confirmed. It had been a massacre. How long would it take for another wave of military personnel to make their way through Seattle? She needed to warn her father as soon as she returned home. He was smart, and much better at making these insane decisions than she was—he'd kept them alive when everyone else on their block was dead. So if anyone would have an idea as to what their next move should be, it was Paul Wolfe.

"I'm sorry, Alex," she whispered, reaching out and placing a hand on the side of his face gently. "I'm so sorry…"

He just nodded, and his eyes were hard as they moved over his massacred family. She'd never seen Alex like this before. Normally, he was so jubilant and his emotions were always worn on his sleeve. But now, he seemed to have locked them within himself, so no one could see them. She could hardly blame him for the change, however. He'd lost his entire family in the worst of ways, by the hands of the very people he'd sworn his allegiance to seven years ago after he'd graduated high school.

He'd been through hell, and now he was hardened because of it. It sort of scared Jenna—it was so starkly contrasting to who he'd always been—but she could understand it. What she couldn't understand was how in the hell he'd survived without a scratch.

"They're gone now…" she began gently, and he didn't look away from the bloody scene. "We can bury them, Alex. They shouldn't—"

"No," he said sharply, almost startling her. "The only reason the marines didn't storm the rest of the house was because any troops that came in to check saw my family, and didn't bother to look any further. They just assumed the house was cleared, like the others. My family…they kept me alive, Jenny…" he finished in a whisper.

She couldn't deny that what he'd just told her was extremely gruesome. In all honesty, she wouldn't have been able to leave her family that way, even if it was for her own protection…and just a week ago, neither would Alex…

"What happened?" she asked again, lowering her hand from his face when his gray eyes locked onto hers again with a strange new intensity she'd never seen before. She almost had the urge to retreat a step backward.

"I just told you that, Jenna," he answered brusquely.

She shook her head, realizing she needed to make herself clearer. "No, I mean, how did you survive?" she asked gently. She found it unlikely that they would've let him live, even if they did know he was military.

His eyes shifted to the left, seeming nervous now as he spoke. "They came in—I heard them from the basement when I was down there trying to get the generator working. I heard them come in, and start shooting…there was nothing I could do, Jenny…" he said quietly. "So when I came up after they left, I locked the door, closed all the windows…"

_But why was he able to lock the door in the first place?_ Her mind asked in a whisper. All the other doors had been kicked in by force, and Jenna highly doubted that one of the soldiers decided to knock before coming in to slaughter the Rhoden family—and there was no way in hell they would've left the door unlocked. And she knew something was off—not just his explanation, but his entire demeanor. She knew Alex better than anyone, and she knew that he never avoided eye-contact the way he was now.

And, without stopping to think about the repercussions, Jenna made the worst decision she could have made in that moment when she looked him straight in the eye and asked, "Alex…why are you lying to me?"

His gray eyes locked onto hers then, and something about the cold detachment she saw within them had her mind working into overdrive.

He'd said he didn't bury his family because their bodies kept the military from searching further into the house, and finding him. Being military himself, he would've known immediately what procedure the unit outside was following, so he would've known whether or not there was a chance for escape…and who was to say that he hadn't realized that just because some of his family had to die, didn't mean _all_ of his family had to die? With all the chaos that must've ensued at the time, the sound of gunshots within the Rhoden home would've been lost amongst the rest. And if he carefully opened the front door just a crack, it might look like it had been breached one way or another—and really, who would've stopped to take the time and really _look_? Alex was right; any military personnel that came through that door would've seen the slaughtered family, and had no incentive to check the rest of the house, especially if they wanted to get out of the area quickly.

His clothes had no trace of blood on them—hell, they were cleaner than hers—and that told her one thing; he hadn't exactly been kneeling at his family's sides and mourning over their deaths. He'd remained distant from them…just as he _felt_ now. Completely distant.

The fact that he just stared at her with those cold gray eyes—gray eyes that she'd always loved—and didn't say a word, spoke volumes to Jenna. There was no guilt in those eyes. All she could see in them was cold, detached, justification. He'd done it. He'd murdered his family to give himself a chance to hide—she was sure of it. And, moreover, she could see that he knew she was sure of it. He'd stood there silently and watched as she pieced it all together.

And suddenly, any trace of love she'd ever felt for him was completely eradicated. Because, whoever the man standing before her was, he was not Alex. This was not the man she'd spent three years of her life devoted to. This was not the man who was more sentimental than she was, remembering anniversaries and special moments more often than she did. This was not the man who showed up at her doorstep in the mornings with the gift of coffee in his hands, and plans for the two of them for the day. This was not the same man who'd spent the better part of three years making sure she knew how to defend herself.

This was not the man who'd surprised her just a week before by taking her out to the Pike Place Market, where they'd first met, and dropped down on one knee in front of everyone in the vicinity to ask her to marry him.

No, this was not the same man she'd loved for three years. This was not the Alex she'd known. That man was dead and gone, destroyed by this…this monster lurking beneath his skin, like a Halloween costume in reverse. And she'd never wanted to be further away from a person in all her life.

Moving hurriedly yet still calmly, somehow, Jenna picked up her Beretta and made her way to the front door. "I should go," she said in a rushed tone.

That finally seemed to snap him into action, and he was there in an instant, reaching the door just before she did and standing in front of it, blocking her way. Before she could do so much as take a full step backward, he twisted the Beretta from her hand expertly before tossing it aside.

"Jenna, listen to me," he demanded intently, invading her space and placing one hand on either side of her shoulders, denying her the chance of an escape. "I _had_ to do it."

"You did _not_!"

"Yes, I did," he argued in a level voice. "We were gonna be killed, and I just…I wasn't gonna let anyone else do it, Jenny. They were gonna die anyway—you weren't here, you didn't see what it was like out there. I did what was best for them. I _had_ to do it."

The fact that he was remaining so calm while defending his choice to murder his family did not go unnoticed by Jenna. Something had happened to him before she'd gotten there. Something…cold and dark. Something deadly and toxic had seeped into him the moment he'd made the decision to slaughter his family for the sake of survival. Staring up into his gray eyes with her back pressed into the door, Jenna could almost see it; the horrible atrocity he had committed flashed through her mind like the pictures in a movie. Something within him dies, making way for this cold, calculating monster. Panic is erased. Fear is erased. A switch is flipped, and he raises his gun, opening fire…

She reached for the knob, wanting nothing more than to get far, far away from the cruel mockery of the man she'd loved that stood hovering over her. He grabbed her by the wrist, stopping her, and his left hand was locked around her other wrist in the next moment. He held them pinned against the door in a vice grip while he stared down at her, that cold, hard look in his eyes.

"Let me go," she demanded, trying not to panic.

Because whatever was about to happen would be completely unlike all the times they'd sparred for fun, or to teach her to fend off attackers. It would be real. Very real.

"I can't do that, Jenny," he said, his voice clinical and disconnected. Speaking matter-of-factly. The absolute finality of his tone almost had her shaking—though in fear or fury, or a combination of the two, she didn't know.

"What, are you gonna kill me too?" she asked in a voice that managed to sound just as scathing as it was shaky. "Is that how this works?"

He hesitated to answer, and she knew immediately that he hadn't ruled it out.

And she was not about to let that happen. She wasn't going to be added to the carnage just a few yards away from where she stood, pinned against her escape route. He wasn't going to let her go willingly, so she would just have to fight her way out—just like he'd taught her.

Without any further preamble, Jenna shot her knee upward, making solid impact with his groin. He was unprepared for the impact, obviously not having expected her to attack him that way, and she wasted no time making her next move while he was still focused on the effects of the first devastating blow. She rotated her right wrist and yanked it free of his hold, and jabbed him in the eye with her thumb in the next instant.

He growled angrily in pain, and before she could make another move, he grabbed her by the hair with his free hand and swung her around forcefully. Pain burst in her left cheekbone when he slammed her into the wall beside the door, and she felt her teeth bite into the flesh of her inner cheek on impact, hard enough to draw blood—quite a bit of it.

Realizing that her hand was still free, she reached behind her over her shoulder and grabbed onto anything she could get her fingers locked around. As impossible as it was, she knew in the back of her mind that she needed to stay focused and not let herself fall victim to her own panic. That was essential. That was what _he_ had taught her.

Her fingers closed around his ear, and she gave it a sharp twist and a hard yank at the same time she brought the force of her heel stomping down on his instep.

He roared in pain that time, and threw her to the side in fury. As soon as she landed on the hardwood floor, pain flaring in her shoulder where she'd absorbed most of the impact, Jenna rolled over onto her back instinctively, and was ready for it when he made his next move. He dove down at her, and in with a surge of adrenaline, she thrust both of her legs out, shoving him backward and away from her.

She wasted no time scrambling away from him, intent on her course. There was a backdoor in the kitchen just down the hall, and if that was blocked off, then she could at least shake him off somewhere in the house and make it back around to the front door.

The familiar sound of a round being loaded into the chamber of her Beretta brought that plan crashing to a violent halt—and replaced it with a new one.

Instead of rushing down the hall, Jenna picked up the M4 that was still leaning against the wall, and spun around just in time to see Alex raising her Beretta at her. She wasn't afraid. She wasn't dreading her actions. She wasn't angry. She wasn't even worried that she would miss the shot. A switch had been flipped within her, and now it was all just muscle memory.

He was still raising her gun at her, his finger over the trigger, when she opened fire; two shots. The first hit him in the chest, and as his body was forced back by the impact, the second bullet pierced through his head.

His body fell back with a heavy thud, and the assault rifle landed on the floor with a loud clatter as it slipped from her hands a moment later.

As she watched the blood pooling around him on the hardwood floor, Jenna's back met the wall behind her and she slid down to the floor as well, both hands over her mouth; a feeble attempt to hold back the sobs that were trying to escape. Everything that she hadn't felt just moments ago, she felt now. Like a white-hot rod scalding raw, open nerves. It was agony in its most unrestrained form.

She'd just murdered her fiancé, because he'd been about to murder her.

Still weeping relentlessly, unable to stop for even a moment, Jenna crawled over to Alex's lifeless body, the knees of her jeans soaking up his blood. She could hardly make a coherent thought as she stared down at him—the image blurred by her tears—and for a while, all she could do was that; stare at him and weep while she knelt over him.

Eventually, when it was almost dusk, she pulled the engagement ring from her finger and placed it in his hand, closing his fingers around it.

"I loved you," she managed through her ceaseless sobs. "I loved you, I loved you…"

It was an accusation as much as it was an apology.

Not wanting to spend another moment in that house, in this private section of hell which had ravaged her in ways she never could have imagined, Jenna forced herself up to her feet, pulled her Beretta from Alex's dead fingers, and left the house, closing the door behind her. As though she would be able to seal off the horrors that had occurred inside that way.

**_Seattle, Washington; June 8th _**

Everything was quiet. Silent. There was no movement in the house, and there never would be again, as far as she was concerned. Everyone was gone. Dead. And, in a way, so was she.

Jenna stared back at the mirror in the bathroom of her childhood home, hands braced on the edges of the sink to hold herself up. Her face was covered in dirt from the three graves she'd spent hours digging. There was a smear of dried blood on her right cheek—whether it belonged to her father, brother, or sister, she didn't know; nor did she want to. There were dried tear streaks cutting through the dirt on her face. Her hair hung loose and wild, just as it always did, but now it was dusted with dirt and sticky with blood in some places. Again, she didn't want to know whose blood it was. There was a large bruise just beneath her left eye; a souvenir from Alex.

Alex.

She'd gone back for him. She'd left her family to try and rescue him. Only to encounter someone…_something_…that was a whole other monster in his place, and returned to find her family in ruins. Maybe if she'd just left him to his own devices, cut her losses and remained with her family, as she should have…maybe things wouldn't have been lost to tumult completely. Maybe one of them would still be alive with her. Maybe even two of them. Maybe even _all_ of them. Or maybe...maybe she would've gone with them...

Tears spilled from her eyes, leaving new streaks in their wake, and Jenna hung her head, letting out a sob. Her hands gripped the edges of the sink so hard that her fingertips would probably be bruised later. She gripped the edges of the sink as though she could hold onto the tenuous grip she still had on her sanity that way. As if she could hold into _herself_.

Jenna raised her head and glared at her reflection, unable to detect even a trace of the person she'd been just the day before. She didn't recognize the person glaring back at her in the mirror. She _looked_ like herself. All the familiar features were there, with one exception; the eyes weren't right.

The eyes staring back at her should've been a peculiar collage of shades of light green, just like her father's eyes. But these eyes were not her own. They were…darker, somehow. Not in shade or hue, but there was something there that had never been before. A shadow clouded over them, barely there enough to be noticeable—but to someone who knew their own eyes, who'd seen them every day…it was an obvious thing. They weren't _right_. And they never would be.

And she never would be, either. She'd never be right again. She'd never be herself again. That part of her—the part of her that had been innocent of the evil of murder, which she had always just assumed would remain that way—was dead and gone.

_Murderer_, her mind whispered.

Staring back at the haunted eyes in the mirror, Jenna could not dispute that. She _was_ a murderer. In two rounds of Alex's M4, she'd murdered that innocent part of her, along with her fiancé. She'd destroyed the person she used to be. She was haunted.

**_End Flashback Sequence_**

A sudden wave of nausea washed over Jenna in a relentless deluge, and she couldn't contain it. She twisted around where she sat on the grass against the back of the house just in time to not throw up all over her lap, instead spilling the minor contents of her stomach onto the grass and soil beside her. Even when she had nothing left inside her to toss up, her body continued to force out dry heaves, as though it would be able to purge itself of the horror she carried with her that way.

No such luck. She'd carry that with her until the day she died—whenever that day decided to present itself—and now Shane would too.

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**Note: **I apologize for the delayed update, but this chapter just didn't seem to want to be written for a while, and I didn't want to force it. Things get sloppy when they're forced, and that really bothers me. Plus, my laptop was getting all glitchy whenever I tried to log into this specific site yesterday, for whatever reason. Hopefully, this is enough to compensate. I think this may be my longest chapter. I considered breaking it up into two separate chapters, but it didn't feel right in this case. Anyway, I hope this update was up to scratch!


	31. Suffocate

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead, and I never will. *Sigh***

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, suggestive themes, and eventual smut.

* * *

_"I get up and pace the room, as if I can leave my guilt behind me. But it tracks me as I walk, an ugly shadow made by myself."_

_—Rosamund Lupton_

* * *

Suffocate

_SPOV_

Steam filled the small bathroom as Shane stepped out of the shower stall and wrapped a towel around his waist. He'd remained in the shower until the hot water had completely run out; not because he'd been enjoying the heat, but because he'd just wanted to get clean. Even now, after he'd spent God only knew how long in that shower, scrubbing tirelessly at his skin, he didn't feel any cleaner. For the first time since that night at the CDC, he was spotless, but he felt…filthy. With every movement of his body, he felt the stickiness of partially dried blood, and it felt so real, so _tangible_, that he kept looking himself over and expecting to see nothing but red staining his skin.

Hell, he practically _could_ see it…

Swiping his hand across the fogged up mirror, Shane stared at his reflection with the upmost loathing he could've ever imagined. All he saw was red, all over himself. The blood of two men, not just on his hands, but covering his entire being. He was a cop. Or, he _had_ been, a couple months ago, before the world went to hell. And now, he'd gone from officer of the law to murderer in one night.

He hung his head and gripped the edges of the porcelain sink, seeking out some semblance of stability. Everything had been dismembered and scattered tonight. In just one night, everything that could've gone wrong, did go wrong. In just one day, he'd destroyed the man he had been.

**_The FEMA Shelter; Seven Hours Earlier_**

Shane limped around the side of the building, trying to get back to the truck. He _had_ to believe that Otis was already there and waiting, or was on his way there now. Shane only had one of the bags, and Otis had the other. And it was a damn miracle that Russell didn't have one, because that bastard had taken off as soon as he'd gotten the chance. If they survived this, Shane hoped for Russell's sake that he didn't show his damn face at the farm tomorrow, or there'd be hell to pay.

But he hadn't seen any sign of Otis since they went separate ways in the gym. If Otis was lost…

No. He couldn't let himself think that way. He couldn't give up now—Carl's life was dependent on him keeping it together and making clearheaded decisions. He had to just keep going, to just make it to the truck. If Otis wasn't there, then he'd figure something out. Retrace the man's steps until he located him—or the bag. The bag was what really counted. If he couldn't find Otis, then he at least had to find the bag.

Because if any life had to be lost tonight, it was for damn sure not going to be Carl's. Shane would keep that boy alive, if it was his dying act. He would do anything and everything in his power to make sure Carl survived that surgery. For the sake of Rick, his brother, for Lori, but mostly, for the sake of the boy who was, for all intents and purposes, his nephew.

Shane stumbled over a rotting body as he moved around the chain-link fencing that bordered the athletic field, blocking his path to the lot where they'd left the truck. Unable to hold his balance with his badly swollen ankle, the weight of the bag brought him falling onto the pavement.

The sound of gravelly snarling had him spinning around on his back as quickly as he could, to see a large walker in blood-stained army fatigues shuffling toward him, just a few feet away. With the rucksack still strapped to his back, and the position he was in lying on top of a dead body, Shane's range of motion was dangerously limited—and he'd dropped his fucking Glock in the fall. When the walker lunged down at him, growling and snapping its jaws, Shane shot his good leg out and planted his boot against the corpse's chest, shoving it back with as much force as he could manage. It flew backward a bit, landing hard on the pavement just a couple yards away from Shane's feet, and Shane stretched his arm out for his gun.

The walker had just managed to get up and start crawling toward him when his hand closed around the Glock, and he pulled the trigger, sending a round straight through the thing's head before it could reach him.

Shane's heart was pounding thunderously as he worked to catch his breath. He'd never had so many close calls with walkers before tonight, and he wondered whether or not he would survive the next one, whenever it came. He only had eleven rounds left in his Glock, including the round in the chamber, and his Mossberg had emptied long before now. Now the shotgun was just extra weight in the bag.

Only survival instinct and the determination to keep Carl alive could've forced Shane to get back to his feet, struggling with the weight of the bag and pushing himself up off the dead body beneath him. He was so tired. Tired like he'd never been before in all his life, and the pain in his ankle only seemed to intensify with each limping step. Sure, he'd had his fair share of football injuries in the past, but back then, he hadn't been pushed to the limit like this after an injury. The game would end, and he'd be able to rest up, and maybe have someone take a look at the injury. Out here, in the dead of night surrounded by walking corpses, all he could hope for was the slim chance of making it back to the truck in one piece—but he had to get there first, and that would be no easy task. In fact, it might just kill him.

Fuck. He really couldn't let thoughts like that hold him back. He couldn't let himself be crippled by the dread of the fact that this could very well be his last night on earth. He couldn't dwell over all the things he hadn't had the chance to do, and never would, whether he lived or not; finally settle down, finally get married, finally start a family of his own. All the things his mother had been nagging him to do for years, and all the things that he had truthfully wanted to do for some time now—though he never would've admit it to anyone.

Not that it mattered now, because those weren't possibilities for him anymore. Even if he survived this night, those things had ceased to be possible for him when the world ended.

_Fuck!_ Now wasn't the fucking time for this shit. He had a task to accomplish, and he couldn't let anything hold him back. Carl's life was on the line, hanging in the balance, and he couldn't screw it up. Or he'd never forgive himself, and he'd never be able to look Rick in the eye again. If he didn't absolutely give it his all tonight, how could he ever expect to face the Grimes family—_his_ family?

A shot echoed in the distance, making Shane halt in his tracks for a moment. It had come from the other side of the building, but other than that, it was hard to pinpoint the location. Shane didn't care. That shot told him all he needed to know—Otis was still alive. Things weren't so direly hopeless after all.

When a long bout of gunfire blasted off a few moments later, Shane's stomach twisted in knots. Otis would only be shooting like that if he was surrounded. And if he was already surrounded, all the noise would only attract more walkers—and Otis knew that. The man must've been desperate.

Shane forced himself forward at a half-jog, ignoring the blazing pain in his ankle and the ragged feeling of his worn-out lungs. He had to get around to the other side of the school, and he had to do it _now_. If Otis was swarmed, there would be no hope of retrieving the bag. Shane didn't have nearly enough ammo in his Glock to even entertain the thought of shooting down a swarm, and he didn't have the means or energy to pick them off without a gun. They couldn't afford to lose that bag—they just _couldn't_. And the fact that Otis's life was now on the line as well only fueled Shane's drive to get to him as fast as he could. Yes, the man was responsible for Carl's injury, but it wasn't like he'd shot the boy on purpose. And he'd come out there with Shane on what was turning out to be a suicide mission to make things right for Carl. Otis may not have been very adept at surviving in this harsh new world, but he didn't deserve to die.

It wasn't until Shane was moving around a large dumpster near the back of the school, to avoid being noticed by a small pack of walkers, that Shane heard the screaming. The most horrible, agonized screaming he'd ever heard. And he knew, before he'd even rushed around the corner of the building and saw for himself, he knew what he would find.

Even so, the fact that he'd known already didn't make seeing it any less terrible.

They were all over him, and more of them were coming to join in. Shane could just barely make out one of Otis's blood-drenched, flailing arms through the horde of walkers that was tearing the man to pieces, bite by bite, handful by rotting handful.

For the longest moment, all Shane could do was stand frozen in place and watch, horrified, as Otis was eaten alive. It was terrible, and unbelievable; Shane was almost convinced that he was hallucinating. He'd seen so many gruesome, awful things in the past two months, but this…this was unlike anything he'd witnessed before.

"Holy shit! Thank God you're alive!"

The sound of another voice other than Otis's screaming shook Shane out of his stupor, and he spun his head to the left to see a very ragged-looking Russell, shuffling over to him with some effort. The pure shock at seeing him—alive—and the fact that he was carrying the other rucksack strapped to his shoulders kept Shane from blowing his top at the man for ditching them inside the school. Otis may have been lost, but Carl wasn't—he still had a chance, as long as the bags got to the farm in time.

"I'as tryna help 'im," Russell panted, his blond hair matted down with sweat, as he approached Shane. "I jus' got the bag from 'im, an' then they grabbed him. Had to run, man, there's nothin I could do."

And there was nothing they could do for Otis now. As much as it sickened Shane—as much as the sound of his screams seemed to shake him by the very soul—he knew that they had to just go. Otis was lost, but Carl wasn't. That was Shane's constant mantra as he and Russell fought their way back to the truck, Shane shooting down any walker that got too close; this was for Carl. And, eventually, after enough distance had been put between them and the back of the school, Otis's screams slowly died out.

Finally, _finally_, when Shane thought he could taste blood with every labored breath and his ankle felt like it had been soaked in molten lava, the truck was within reach. There was just a handful of walkers between them and their goal—their ticket home—and they were in the clear.

Shane raised his Glock to shoot them down, knowing he had just enough to finish off these three stragglers. As he shot the first down, Russell opened fire at his side, and from the corner of his eye, Shane recognized Rick's Python immediately; the Colt Python which he'd given Otis just before they left the farm.

Shane lowered his gun and looked over at Russell, who continued to shoot down the last walker, taking in the man's appearance for the first time.

He was completely drenched in sweat, the moisture matting down his hair and staining his shirt dark. Dirt and grime blotched his face and neck from the day's events, and smears of blood colored his shirt and pants in various places. His left eye was darkened and slightly swollen, and Shane, having been a frequent fighter in his high school days, recognized the injury easily, and knew it was out of place—because walkers didn't punch people in the face. Just beneath the bruised and swollen eye were two scratch marks that could've been caused by a walker…but something told Shane that wasn't the case.

Russell lowered the Python when he'd put down the walker that blocked them from the truck, and turned to look back at Shane in puzzlement when he noticed the stare he was receiving from the other man.

"C'mon, man," he urged, nodding his head at the Ford. "Let's go, let's get the hell outta here."

"You got scratched," Shane said, not moving, but just staring at Russell, a strange, cold sensation spreading within him.

Russell faltered then, completely caught off his guard. He opened his mouth, but couldn't seem to find any words for a moment—a rarity for him—as he cast his eyes around nervously, searching for inspiration.

"One of em must've got me, an' I didn't notice," he said, a little too late, and a bit too untroubled about such a thing. "Bet I'll be fine—c'mon, man, we gotta go."

That chilling sensation had spread throughout Shane's entire being by then, and he knew something was not right. He knew that Russell had done something to get Otis killed. No one would lie about getting scratched by a walker—unless the truth was more likely to get them killed.

"Otis didn't give you that bag," Shane said coldly, glaring at the blond next to him. "An' he sure as hell didn't give you that gun."

Russell's eyes darted around wildly again, searching for a way out…and then they stopped, staring down at the ground before him unseeingly. "We were surrounded…had to draw em off…we were gonna die, man…an' he's the one who shot the kid anyway." He looked up at Shane, blue eyes staring back at him defiantly. "An' if you were a better friend, you woulda done the same for Rick's kid."

He moved to raise the Python, but Shane beat him to it, knocking his hand away to deflect the shot with his left arm, and bringing his own gun up in the same moment. Before Russell could make another move, Shane had pulled the trigger, sending a bullet blasting through his chest at point-plank range at an upward angle.

Russell's body collapsed in a heap, and Shane rolled him over onto his front before the blood could spill out all over the bag that was still strapped to his back. Moving mechanically, not letting himself feel anything, Shane removed the bag from Russell's body, and pried the Python from his dead fingers before hobbling over to the truck.

Shane drove down the road in the dark of night, Otis's screaming echoing in his head.

**_End Flashback _**

Staring at the fogged up mirror, Shane glared back at his reflection. He'd killed a man tonight, and left another for dead—and he'd been welcomed back like a fucking hero, when none of them knew the truth. Rick thought he owed Shane his life after tonight, and Shane couldn't tell him why he was wrong. Rick might be his best friend—his brother—but how could he accept _this_?

Shane shook his head, trying to dispel the haunting thoughts and the phantom screams in his head. He looked away from the mirror and began pulling on his bloodied clothes; he was not about to wear a dead man's clothes. He just…he couldn't.

While he pulled the black t-shirt over his head, the sound of someone coughing and choking caught his attention, and he moved over to the small window at the side of the bathroom to try and see who it was. All he could see was the blackness that surrounded the back of the house, but he could still hear the choking. Actually, from the sound of it, someone was very sick out there.

Wondering who it was, what was wrong, and quite honestly, thankful for the distraction, Shane left the bathroom and made his way down the stairs as quietly as he could manage. He didn't want to attract any attention at the moment. He just wanted to fly well under everyone's radar, and remain there—maybe forever. He was disgusted with himself. As much as he absolutely hated Russell for what he did to Otis, Shane hadn't done right by that man either. Far from it—he'd left him for dead too.

The weight of his actions tonight—the line that he'd crossed—it was settling in his chest like a thick, icy fog. It was so uncomfortable, it was nearly unbearable. Chilling. Suffocating. He wondered if it would ever go away, but something made him doubtful. He couldn't just kill a man and expect that to go away, could he?

Moving through the first floor of the house, Shane passed the room where Carl was recovering from his surgery. As soon as Hershel had declared the operation successful, Shane had gone in to check on the boy—to see for himself that he was going to make it, and that his actions weren't without purpose.

He couldn't stand to enter that room now, where Rick and Lori sat keeping close watch over their only child. If Rick thanked him one more time…

Shane shook his head and moved around, heading toward the back of the house, where he'd heard someone choking and coughing, and he was just grateful that Patricia had apparently stopped weeping, wherever she was now. On his way, he passed the living room, where Thao was still sound asleep on the old couch, curled up beneath an old quilt. Shane was surprised Jenna wasn't at the boy's side, and wondered where she was. He'd seen her briefly when he first got back to the house, but she'd vanished just as quickly, he realized now.

Once he stepped out onto the back porch, that mystery was solved. Jenna was sitting on the bottom step of the back porch alone, leaning back against the railing. In the dim light of the kitchen windows, she looked ghostly pale, and he wondered what was wrong with her. She looked…about as bad as he felt, as impossible as that was.

"You alright?" he asked quietly, limping over to the steps toward her.

Her head turned up in his direction, startled, and he realized he'd taken her by surprise. Which was odd. She was normally much more observant than that. But now that he was closer, he could see the intense dark circles around her eyes, contrasting with the pale shade of her skin.

She nodded silently as he came to a stop and settled himself down on the top step—his ankle was killing him.

"Heard he's gonna be okay," she said, her voice quiet…tired sounding.

He nodded, running a hand through his still damp hair. "Yeah…yeah, Hershel says he's gonna make it." Before she could praise him in some way, Shane continued. "You look like a ghost, girl," he noted honestly in concern. "What happened? You get sick?"

She hesitated, but nodded after a moment. "Yeah…orange juice isn't staying down very well," she explained, running a hand over her pale face tiredly.

It was then that he noticed the gauze bandaged to the inside of her elbow. "What happened to your arm?" he inquired, gesturing at the gauze.

She looked down at it and ran a finger over the wrapping lightly, not looking up at him when she spoke. "Turns out Carl, Rick, and I have the same blood type," she answered, her voice still quiet. "I filled in for Rick when it wasn't safe for him to give blood anymore." She was quiet for a moment, and then her eyes finally turned up to meet his, looking strangely…hesitant, when she asked, "Are you okay?"

Wanting to stay off the topic of himself, Shane nodded and deflected. "I'm fine," he assured her—lying. "You should head on inside, Jenna—you'll get sick stayin out here all night. It's cold."

She just shook her head slightly and looked back toward the darkness that cloaked the surrounding property. "I'm good out here for now."

Stubborn little woman. He might've found her obstinacy amusing on another night—any other night. But he didn't find anything amusing anymore, it seemed. He wondered if he ever would, or if he'd remain this way forever—suffocated by the horror of his actions.

He pulled himself to his feet again, using the railing as leverage. "I'll get ya a blanket or somethin," he mumbled as he straightened up.

If she was going to sit out there, she could at least be warm.

"Shane?" she called, her voice still quiet—solemn, almost—as he reached the back door.

He turned around, one hand on the screen door, waiting for her to speak again. Her eyes held his, and he couldn't fathom why they would look so…_sad_, but he waited for her to speak still. Maybe she'd tell him, if he was patient.

But her next words only made him feel like he'd just had a bucket of ice water dumped over him.

"What really happened out there tonight?"

* * *

**Note: **I apologize for such a delayed update, but the odds were stacked against me this week. I've been sick and in bed most of the time, and having a throbbing headache kind of kills my muse. But, I am recovering, and I plan to have the next chapter out soon. Thank you to those who have reviewed, it's very much appreciated, and thank you to those who've favorited and alerted this story! You guys are awesome for that.


	32. Wolfe in Sheep's Clothing

**Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever, own The Walking Dead. This is for entertainment purposes only.**

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, suggestive themes, and eventual smut.

* * *

_"Was it you or I who stumbled first? It does not matter. The one of us who finds the strength to get up first, must help the other."_

_—Vera Nazarian_

* * *

Wolfe in Sheep's Clothing

"What really happened out there tonight?"

If she'd had any doubts that Shane was hiding something, they were eradicated as soon as she'd voiced the question that had been on the tip of her tongue since he'd joined her out on the back porch. The dread that flashed in his eyes only told her what she already knew; his story was a cover-up. Now she was just hoping, for his sake, that he would tell her why he needed the cover story in the first place.

It took him a few moments to be able to give her an answer as she watched him try to back out of this safely. She wished he knew he didn't have to hide from her.

"It's like I told Rick," he managed eventually, his voice slightly uneven. "We lost Russell early on, an' Otis pushed me ahead…told me he'd cover me…he didn't make it…" His voice had diminished to a whisper by then as he hung his head.

Jenna grabbed onto the railing and pulled herself to her feet with some effort, feeling a bit lightheaded with the sudden motion, and stepped up to the porch to be at level with him. He watched her movements with caution, his stance on-guard and his eyes untrusting. He looked much like someone who was being backed into a corner, and she took a small step back to give him some space, not wanting to make him feel trapped in any way.

"I know what you told Rick, I heard you," she began again, unsure of exactly how to proceed. She didn't want to accuse him of lying outright. "I'm asking you to tell me what really happened," she decided, knowing she didn't need to elaborate.

Shane glared back at her, still looking cornered, and she knew she was treading into dangerous territory. But, as on-edge as he obviously was, she knew he wouldn't hurt her. So she wasn't going to retreat for the sake of safety.

"That is what really happened," he said, sounding angry now.

"Is it?" she asked quietly. When he merely continued to glare at her, she added, "Shane, I'm not gonna say anything…to anyone…"

"Girl, what the hell you want from me?" he asked, giving her a bitter, humorless laugh. "You lookin for some kinda confession from me, or what? I told Rick what happened, I don't need to tell you anythin."

Jenna shook her head, not turning her eyes away from his. "I'm not asking you to confess anything, Shane," she said truthfully, making sure to keep her voice level. "I'm just asking you to tell me what happened. Not to confess anything, and not to give me some bullshit story, either. Just to tell me what happened…what _really_ happened."

"Nothin happened," he said, and she suspected that he knew they were both very aware of how desperate a claim that statement was. He said the words with such conviction…he _wanted_ them to be true. "An' I don't gotta say anythin to you anyway," he added throwing his hand up, giving her a scathing, humorless smirk. "Barely fuckin know you."

He was definitely on a defensive edge—protecting himself—and she couldn't blame him. He was on edge and his emotions were raw. She knew the feeling. If she hadn't been alone after killing Alex…Martin…that man in the alley…if she'd been near other people afterward, and if they'd been pressing her for information like this, she would've reacted the same way. To protect herself. And he was absolutely right; he didn't have to tell her anything. Moreover, he had no reason to. Why should he trust her with this secret…the darkest secret? She had to give him a reason to trust her. If she wasn't willing to open up and trust him, then how could she expect him to do the same?

She knew what she had to do now, as painful as it was. But this wasn't about her—it was about him. He was _horrified_ by himself, and if he started to slip… No. She wouldn't let that happen. She might have been the only one among them who had the ability to help him, and she wasn't about to leave him to his own devices.

Jenna nodded slowly, deliberating over her words before she spoke. "You're right," she said eventually. "You barely know me. So why don't we try this; I'll talk, and you listen. And we'll see where we go from there."

For a second he looked absolutely bewildered by this, before he shook it off and went back on the defensive. He began to shake his head and roll his eyes at her, and she knew that she didn't have a lot of time before he decided to leave her there to seek safety in solitude. She didn't have time to explain things gently and gradually—she just had to tell him the facts, before he decided not to listen.

"I told you Alex and his family were killed by the military," she began, snaring his attention almost immediately. "That was a lie. When I left my family to go back for him, I found his parents and his brothers dead—he was alive and well. Because he was the one who killed them. And I ended up killing him before he could kill me too."

Any trace of distrust or anger had completely vanished from Shane's features. Now he just looked…horrified. She pressed on, not letting the icy dread in her chest hold her back. She had his attention, and she wasn't about to back down now.

"I was in Utah not very long after that," she went on, speaking quickly but clearly so he didn't miss anything, hoping in vain that if she got it all out as quickly as she could that it wouldn't hurt so much to admit to all of it. "And I killed a man named Martin Connors when he put a gun to my head and tried to carjack me. A little while later, just a couple days before I found Thao, I killed another man in Colorado. That's three men—three lives—ended by me before I met any of you."

They stood just a few feet apart, staring at each other in silence while the crisp night air chilled them both…but neither of them were going anywhere. Not until this was settled. It was an unspoken understanding between them, and now all Jenna could do was wait.

Shane's eyes had gone from panicked, to untrusting, to angry, and had finally seemed to land on something close to empathy.

And then, after what could have been seconds, minutes, or hours for all Jenna knew, he spoke. As quickly and clearly as she had.

"We got the supplies, but we had to run for cover in the school when we started to get ambushed," he started, looking off into the darkness that lurked just outside of the dim halo of light surrounding the house. "That's where Russell ditched us. Took off down a hallway, an' left us there with the bags. Walkers were distracted by me an' Otis, so he got away jus' fine. We split up, me an' Otis. I went out the window, an' he went the other way for the locker rooms. Busted my ankle then… I heard shots on the other side of the building when I was outside, an' I went to go an' help 'im. I was runnin outta ammo fast, down to about ten rounds by then, but I kept goin. But when I found 'im, he was…God, they were all over 'im…"

He closed his eyes and raked a hand through his partially damp hair, pulling at the strands in a quick, agitated motion. She waited silently for him to continue, knowing that as bad as the explanation already was, it was only going to get worse.

"An' then Russell comes outta nowhere," he continued after gathering himself again, still looking away from her. "He's got the other bag with 'im, an' he tells me he tried to help Otis, but he got mobbed an' there was nothin he could do. We were goin back to the truck, an' when I saw Rick's gun in his hand…the gun Rick gave Otis when we left…I knew he was lyin. An' when I told 'im that, he started to raise the gun at me…an' I was the first to pull the trigger…"

Jenna closed her eyes, not wanting the image to invade her mind, but was unable to block it out. She could see it, every little detail unfolding in rapid progression. Because it was always just that fast; there was no time to really feel anything when it happened. You flipped the switch, made the decision, and acted. Quick, clear, simple.

And then, when it was over, and when you had time to take a step back and really take it all in…really appreciate the magnitude of your actions…that was when it hit you. And it hit hard.

"I had to do it," he said quietly, his voice strained.

She opened her eyes to find that his were boring into hers beseechingly, begging her to understand.

"I did what I had to," he continued after a pause.

She nodded. "You did."

"Same as you."

Again, she nodded solemnly. "Yeah, same as me…" she murmured, looking off to the side, staring into the dark of night unseeingly. "Doesn't make you feel any better though, does it?"

He sighed and dragged his hand over his face before shaking his head in response. "Naw…naw, it don't."

She moved over to the banister of the porch and leaned forward on her elbows, staring off into the shadowed distance. "I wish I knew what to tell you that _would_ make you feel better, but I don't," she said truthfully.

He said nothing for a long moment, and then slowly limped toward her, leaning forward against the banister beside her and hanging his head. Looking for all the world like he had the weight of the universe on his shoulders. And she understood that for all he knew, he did. Everything that had happened at the school was still fresh and raw; an open wound with blood still flowing. She'd had time to heal—partially. Her wounds weren't closed, but the blood flow had stopped at least. That was more than she could say for him right then.

"Does it ever get better?" he asked after a long stretch of silence between them, his voice subdued and solemn. Haunted. Judging by the tone of his voice, Jenna guessed he wasn't even halfway hopeful about that prospect.

"I think it depends on the person," she answered after some consideration. "For me…no, it hasn't gotten better. It's just gotten…less painful. Or maybe I'm just getting used to it. I really don't know. But it hasn't gotten _better_."

"Suffocating," he said after a moment.

"Suffocating?" she mirrored questioningly, not following.

"That's how it feels, for me at least…like I can't breathe," he explained. "Like it's crushin my chest, an' I can't do anythin about it."

She nodded, finding that he'd just put a name on the sensation that she'd been struggling with all along. "Yeah…me too."

"It don't go away, ever?" he asked, still barely a trace of real hope in his voice.

"Hasn't for me," she answered honestly, ducking her head slightly as she said this. "It's just gotten…manageable, I guess. It doesn't feel like it's about to kill me, but it's always there."

"You seem like you're doin alright to me," he ventured.

There was more hope in his tone that time, and Jenna really didn't want to extinguish that. People needed hope to go on, didn't they? When she'd lost that, it had just about destroyed her, until she found something else to live for. But Shane wasn't alone, in any sense of the word. He had the group, and as far as empathy went now, he had her. She understood his demons, at least. But would that be enough, if he had no hope?

She couldn't lie to him, though. He deserved the truth from her—the one person who could understand his inner turmoil.

"Looks can be deceiving," she said quietly, partially hoping he didn't hear her, but knowing that she needed to be honest with him. "I've gotten pretty good at hiding things—you might've noticed that."

He nodded. "Yeah…yeah, I noticed that. Now I know why."

Jenna didn't respond, but just kept her mouth shut, letting him get his thoughts in order now that he'd gotten everything off his chest. Oddly enough, she felt as though a slight weight had been lifted from her own, and wondered if it had anything to do with everything she'd admitted to Shane tonight.

"Maybe I should head off on my own for a bit…get a clear head…" he said in almost a whisper, sounding like he was merely thinking out loud.

That certainly had her head snapping around to face him in an instant. "Shane, that's the last thing you should do right now," she said immediately.

He met her gaze, a trace of defiance in his maple eyes. "Bein alone for a while didn't do much harm to you," he contradicted. "In fact, it seems like it did you a lotta good. You got a clear head…I don't. An' I need that."

Jenna shook her head adamantly, straightening up and having to keep one hand firmly on the banister to keep herself steady when everything started to spin again.

"I started out alone," she corrected once she'd gathered herself. "I _had_ to be alone; I didn't have a choice. You do, and going off on your own now, after everything…that's the worst choice you could make. After a while, I got used to being alone," she explained, simmering down again, and looked off into the distance blankly. "Solitude was what I knew, and it was what I was comfortable with. It made me feel safe…after everything… But it wasn't doing me any good, Shane; believe me when I say that."

He almost seemed to consider her words for a moment, before shaking his head and looking away, toward the shadowed fields ahead of them.

"I think I know what's best for me," he said, confirming what she already knew. He was not convinced.

For fuck's sake, how stubborn could the man be? Jenna did her best not to lose her composure. If she raised her voice, it would draw unwanted attention from the others, and that was the last thing either of them needed at the moment. But how was she supposed to convince him to stay?

"Aren't you always the one keeping the group together?" she demanded, being sure to keep the volume of her voice at a safe level. "Or does that not apply to you? Collaboration; that's what you told me, right? You don't have to go through this alone, and you shouldn't. If help is there, then _take it_, for fuck's sake."

He pushed away from the banister and turned so that he was facing her fully as well. "If I recall correctly, I did give you the option of leavin back at the CDC—because that wasn't _my_ choice to make."

"Yes, you did," she agreed without missing a beat. "But I'm not so generous."

He blew out a derisive breath of laughter, giving her a sardonic glare. She really hadn't meant to turn this into a challenge, but if that was what it took, then she wasn't going to back down. But perhaps she could change tack a bit.

"Look, I get it, man; why would you wanna take advice from me, right?" she began again. "You're stronger than me. You're older than me. You've kept more people alive than I ever could. You're a leader, I'm a loner. So who am I to be telling you what you should and shouldn't be doing? I get it. But this…well, this is one area that I have more experience than you. And in all honesty, I hope it stays that way…" she trailed off a bit, and then refocused. "Shane, please… Back at the CDC, you did give me the choice to leave—you're right. But you also asked me to trust you, and I did." He looked away then, seeming to be growing frustrated and defensive again. "Now I'm asking you to trust me, because I do have a better idea of what I'm talking about here than you do."

"You were jus' fine," he argued angrily, finally letting it out. "You spent all that time alone, an' ended up jus' fine. Better off 'n I am, at least. Don't tell me I can't handle myself on my own. I can handle myself jus' fine. Ask _Russell_."

She was not the least bit dissuaded by his temper, and just waited for him to vent before arguing with him.

"You think I'm talking about physical safety here?" she asked, more of a bite to her tone then. "Of course you don't, because you're smarter than that. Being on your own now, after committing _murder_, is the last thing you need."

She didn't miss it when he winced at that, but pressed on, knowing that she was at least reaching him now, as harsh as her words may have been.

"You're a good person, Shane, so it's not like you'll be able to just sweep this under the rug and forget about it. It's gonna stay with you _forever_, you know that. What you don't know, is that when you're alone, without one person you trust around to keep you together…you can barely keep yourself from falling apart."

"You seem pretty _together_ to me," he shot back, glaring at her.

"Yeah, I am now," she agreed easily. "And you might also notice that I'm not alone anymore. I haven't been for months. If you would've seen me eight weeks ago, you would've seen another person entirely."

He seemed to be about to argue again, but she didn't let him get a word out. She was going to make him understand, if it took her the rest of the fucking night. She could be stubborn too.

"I killed three men, Shane, and it almost destroyed me," she went on before he could speak. "I spent every waking moment reliving every fucking detail of what I'd done—and I couldn't stop. All of it would just come to mind on its own, and I couldn't keep any of it out. It was all I could think about, and it almost destroyed me. And because I was alone, because I completely stopped trusting _anyone_ after…"

She shook her head, scattering that train of thought. "I was ready to let it kill me. I wasn't gonna put up a fight, because I had no reason to stop it. The only reason it didn't was because I just happened to look to my left and saw a little boy sitting alone in a daycare center…and suddenly, everything that happened to me, everything that I'd done…none of it mattered. Taking care of that little boy, keeping him safe—that was what mattered. That's what kept me alive, that's what kept me sane."

She cut herself off and looked away, running a hand through her hair restlessly. This was all so absurd. She was admitting things to him she'd never even really admitted to herself, for the sake of keeping him sane. She was letting down her walls—something she'd sworn she would _never_ do under any circumstances—in the hopes that he wouldn't build any around himself.

But if it worked, then that would be worth it…she was sure of it.

"Thao…" She found herself almost smiling, thinking of the saving grace that little boy had become to her. "You all think I saved him. That couldn't be further from the truth—he saved me. If I hadn't found him at that moment, I would not have made it out of Colorado… I wouldn't have made it another day…"

She looked over at him furtively then, watching his expression and demeanor change as her words sank in, and he understood their meaning. Her walls were completely down, laying at her feet in scattered bits of rubble. Would she be able to build them back up after this? Did she even want to try? Keeping them up and fortified constantly was exhausting…

"Yeah," she said quietly, turning around and leaning her elbows on the banister again. "Andrea isn't the only one here who's literally come within _seconds_ of ending it all." She hung her head. That was also something she'd sworn she'd never speak of.

Shane was silent for a very heavy, prolonged moment, before moving back over to the banister to stand next to her again, also leaning on his elbows.

"Things got that bad, huh?" he asked, his tone much softer now.

"Yeah. And if you think they won't get that bad for you out there on your own…you're wrong. You're dead wrong."

He didn't say anything for a moment as they both gazed out into the darkness of the night. She wondered vaguely how late it was, and how many of the others were still awake. Everyone had had a terrible night to some degree—some more than others.

"I can still hear 'im screamin…" said Shane quietly, his voice laced heavily with guilt and remorse.

Jenna's eyes closed reflexively, trying to keep herself from imagining the very screams that were haunting the man next to her. "You think being alone is gonna make that any better?" she asked, her voice equally quiet. "It's all you're gonna be able to hear."

"Do you?" he asked after another long pause. "Hear 'em, I mean…" he explained.

She didn't have to ask to know what he was talking about. "No, not exactly," she answered. "That's not how I remember any of it. It's…details… All the little details are what I remember." She paused, deliberating. "And none of them were screaming, anyway…they all died very quickly."

"I'm sorry…'bout Alex," he said eventually. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. I dunno if I could've come outta somethin like that an' kept goin."

She nodded slowly, closing her eyes for a moment. "I wouldn't have killed him," she said, opening her eyes again. "I didn't want to—I just wanted to get away. And he wouldn't let me. All he had to do was let me go, and he would've lived. And the craziest part was that he didn't expect me to fight back like I did, when he was the one who'd taught me self-defense in the first place—made damn sure I was good at it, too." She shook her head and raked a hand through her hair. "All he had to do was let me go," she said again. "I was already running for the back door, but when I heard him pick up my gun and put a round in the chamber…everything changed. I picked up his gun, and I didn't feel anything. He aimed at me, and I gunned down my fiancé with his own assault rifle…and then I felt _everything_."

"Ya did what ya had to do," he said softly while she hung her head. "It was either him or you. Nobody could argue that."

"I know," she breathed, a tad shakily, as she raised her head again. "Doesn't mean anyone else would understand. I wouldn't, if it hadn't already happened to me. And you wouldn't, before tonight."

He was silent for a moment, unable to dispute that. "How do ya get passed this, Jenna?" he asked eventually. "You're right, I could never forget it. So how do I keep goin after this?"

She sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair again. "I really don't know how to answer that, Shane," she said truthfully. "Because this is never gonna be okay, and to be honest, I don't think it ever _should_ be okay. Some things just shouldn't be okay… You killed a man, Shane. I killed three. That can never be undone. We crossed a line, and we can never go back from that."

She let out a rough breath in frustration. This was not what he needed to hear—he already knew all of this.

"Shane, I'm not telling you that you're ever gonna feel _better_ about this," she began again, changing tack. "This will never be okay. I think if you did start to feel okay about it…then you'd have a good reason to be afraid for yourself. What I will tell you though, is that I won't let this eat you alive… I can promise you that, at least, for what it's worth. Some days, you'll feel like it's about to. Some days, you'll feel alright for the most part, as long as you're good and distracted. And some days…some days you'll wake up, and it'll be the first thing that comes to mind. And you'll feel like you're losing your fucking mind, I swear... But it doesn't have to destroy you, and I'm not about to let it."

"Why?" he asked, sounding absolutely stunned.

She finally looked over at him and leveled her gaze with his, seeing the disbelief there in his eyes. "Because I've been where you are now, and I was alone…and I would've given _anything_ for someone to help me."

He stared back at her for a long moment, so much empathy in his eyes, and then he nodded. And she was finally able to breathe a little sigh of relief; he wasn't leaving.

"C'mere," he whispered, and she didn't realize what he was doing before he'd moved forward and pulled her into his arms already, taking her by surprise.

Hard-wired instinct had her tensing up immediately, and she fought the urge to escape his hold, as though it was threatening in some way. But she relaxed after a moment or two, inhaling his suddenly familiar scent and absorbing his warmth. And suddenly, she felt safer and more protected than she could remember feeling in a long while—even when she'd resided safely behind her diligently fortified walls. Because she _was_ safe, she realized. He wasn't going to hurt her. He hadn't lost himself, like Alex, or any of the other men she'd fought off. Even after Russell, and Otis, he hadn't lost himself. He was damaged and haunted, but he was still the same man. And she knew that he was a man she could trust.

It wasn't until she'd wrapped her arms around him and let her head rest against his chest that she felt the moisture in her eyes and on her cheeks. She wondered briefly how long the tears had been there, but then decided it didn't matter much, really. Where Shane was concerned, her walls had already come crumbling down.

He moved his hand up and down her back soothingly and tucked her head beneath his chin, holding her close. "We're gonna be alright, Jenna," he said gently. "Somehow."

She wanted so, so much to believe him.

* * *

**Note:**

It's taken a while, but they're getting there. :)

Anyway, I apologize for the delayed updates. It took a bit longer to complete this chapter than I'd originally thought. However, the next chapter is already written; I just need to make a few tweaks before I post it.

As ever, a big thank you to everyone who's reviewed, alerted, and favorited this story! You guys rock!


	33. Memoriam

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead. It belongs to Robert Kirkman and AMC. And I am neither. **

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and eventual smut.

* * *

_"...I live with regrets - the bittersweet loss of innocence - the red track of the moon upon the lake - the inability to return and do it again..."_

_―John Geddes_

* * *

Memoriam

When the small convoy began making its way along the road up to the dirt and gravel driveway of the house, Jenna and the others who had been busy gathering stones for Otis's memorial all stopped what they were doing to go and greet them. T-Dog ran inside to tell Rick and Lori of their arrival, and Thao exited the house shortly after, running up to Jenna's side, looking around at the group gathering curiously.

Rick and Lori came out through the front door with Hershel as the vehicles came to a stop, Daryl at the lead on his motorcycle and Dusty at the wheel of Shane's Hyundai, Carol in the passenger seat.

"How is he?" Dale asked Rick and Lori, the first to speak.

"He'll pull through," said Lori, a smile on her face and a catch in her voice. "Th-thanks to Hershel an', an' his people, an' Jenna—"

"And Shane," said Rick sincerely. "We'da lost Carl if not for him."

Jenna's eyes glanced over to the left, where Shane stood a little away from the rest of the group, hands in his pockets, head slightly ducked. Her stomach roiled a bit as the icy gush of dread filled it again, and she turned her eyes away in the next moment, before he or anyone else had the chance to spot her.

People were going to want to hear the story and know the details. And in that sense, Jenna was as lost as Shane was. She'd never had anyone to answer to before. Last night, before she'd finally let herself fall asleep on the couch with Thao, she and Shane had decided to stick to the story he'd told Rick. It was really their best option at this point, since it would be highly suspicious if Shane were to change his story now—even if that meant revealing the truth. So they'd both agreed to leave the story as it was; Russell didn't make it and Otis died a hero.

Dale moved forward and embraced Rick, a look of immense relief adorning his face as the understanding settled upon the group as a whole. Carl was going to make it.

"Thank God," breathed Carol, wrapping her arms around Lori, releasing her only to have Dusty do the same.

"How'd it happen?" inquired Dale then.

"Hunting accident," Rick replied, shaking his head. "That's all, jus' a stupid accident."

Dusty looked around at everyone, the Greene family included, her eyes searching. "Where's Russell?" she asked, frowning.

Rick hesitated a moment before responding. "He didn't make it," he said regretfully.

It was a slight blow to the rest of the group who'd just arrived—save for Daryl, who only looked like he had one less problem to deal with. The others had all liked Russell well enough, despite only knowing him very briefly. Dusty looked a little shell-shocked for a long moment, absorbing that, and then nodded slightly, swallowing her pain. She'd gone through much worse before, Jenna knew, so she could handle this.

"Whoa…" said Dusty as she approached Jenna and Thao when she'd gathered herself, looking at Jenna in obvious concern. "You alright, Jen? Ya look like hell."

Jenna nodded, offering up a rueful smirk that she didn't really feel.

"She gave a lotta blood last night," Rick explained, a definite note of gratitude in his voice as he reached out and gripped her shoulder for a moment.

She just nodded again, looking down at Thao's hair while she smoothed it down needlessly, just needing somewhere else to look, and not trusting her eyes to avoid shifting over to Shane. Only the two of them knew that she'd also vomited up the complete contents of her stomach last night as well.

"Speakin of which, you should really eat somethin, Miss," said Hershel to Jenna, as though reading her mind.

Not having it in her to argue, Jenna just nodded, allowing Maggie to lead her up the porch steps and into the house, Thao following along closely. Assuring him that she was alright, Jenna sent Thao off to play with his Hot Wheels race cars in the living room while Maggie made her a quick meal of a sandwich, sliced peaches, and a tall glass of orange juice.

"Sweet boy," Maggie commented, taking a seat at the kitchen table with Jenna and looking into the living room.

Jenna smiled slightly, nodding. "Yeah, he is."

"Is he yours?" she asked, a bit hesitantly.

"Not biologically," Jenna replied, knowing that was what she'd been wondering. "I found him on his own when I was in Colorado, almost two months ago. We're family now."

"What happened to his parents?" Maggie asked, bewildered.

Jenna shook her head slightly. "I don't know," she said honestly. "He was locked in a daycare center—from what he told me, I gathered that the staff couldn't wait around the place any longer when things were getting bad, and instead of taking him with them, they left him behind. Probably hoping his parents would come to get him. They locked the doors and told him to wait there. He'd been surviving off the snacks in the backroom."

Maggie looked even more disbelieving than before as she took all that in. "He was just left behind…" she breathed.

Jenna nodded solemnly. The world was an ugly, chaotic place. A place where people were forced into situations that brought out the worst in them. A place where the line between right and wrong was shadowy at best. Where children were left behind to fend for themselves, and where people had to make a choice between life and death—no matter the cost.

"You came all the way from Colorado, huh?" Maggie asked then, her intent apparently being to change the subject.

"Washington State, actually," Jenna clarified.

Maggie raised her brows in surprise. "You're a long way from home," she noted, and Jenna nodded in agreement. "What brought you all the way here?"

"Looking for someone," said Jenna after a moment, and then decided to answer the other woman's next question before she could ask. "Haven't found them yet…"

Maggie nodded solemnly, understanding.

The front door swung open with a creak, and Jimmy poked his head into the kitchen. "They're ready."

They both nodded, and Jenna finished the last gulp of orange juice before getting out of her seat and following Maggie back outside, telling Thao to stay put for now. She didn't want him to have to bear witness to the grief of Patricia and the Greene family.

The combined groups gathered down by the small patch of trees in the field, where a makeshift stone pillar of sorts had been erected to stand as a memorial for Otis—they didn't have his body to bury. Jenna came to stand at an open spot between Dusty and Glenn while Maggie moved to stand next to Patricia, putting an arm around the older woman's shoulder.

"Blessed be God," Hershel read from his old Bible, while the others slowly moved forward, one at a time, to place a stone onto the pillar, "the father of our Lord, Jesus Christ." He closed the Bible then, and spoke from the heart. "Praise be to Him, for the gift of our brother, Otis. For his span of years, for his abundance of character. Otis, who gave his life to save a child, now, more than ever, our most precious asset."

And Jenna couldn't help it—her eyes glanced over to Shane of their own accord, only to fall down to the ground at her feet again when she saw the haunted, aching regret he'd managed to just barely conceal in his eyes. Jenna, who was well acquainted with that plagued shadow in the eyes, recognized it immediately. She doubted that the others would've been able to detect it for what it was, had they the inclination to look in Shane's direction. They would've just seen remorse, and thought nothing of it.

Jenna wished she could be so fortunate.

"We thank you, God, for the peace he enjoys in your embrace," Hershel went on. "He died as he lived…in grace. Shane"—Jenna's heart froze and her stomach lurched—"will you speak for Otis?" Hershel implored.

She closed her eyes, feeling as though the air in her lungs had morphed into icy, dank fog. Something of her discomfort must've shown in her demeanor, for Dusty reached out and put a gentle arm around her back to steady her—thinking that she was merely lightheaded, Jenna knew. She nodded a thanks to her friend, and forced herself to open her eyes again, refusing to let them glance over at Shane that time.

She'd done horrible things. Things that she had no hope of redeeming herself from. Things that would haunt her until the day she died, however near or far that day was. And in doing those things, she'd suffered to varying degrees each time, after the fact.

But she'd never had to do _this_.

"I'm not good at it," said Shane quietly, his voice very subdued, and though Jenna hadn't looked up from the ground, she could imagine him hanging his head. "I'm sorry…" he whispered.

"You were the last with him," Patricia's voice trembled, beseeching. "Will you share his final moments?"

For a moment, Shane couldn't seem to find any words to respond with.

"Please?" she begged, the tears evident in her voice. "I need to hear it… I need to know his death had meaning… Please…"

"He—" Shane began, and then broke off. He took a few moments to gather his words, his thoughts…coming up with something that would soothe Otis's grieving wife. Telling her the truth would be far from soothing. "We were about done," he began again, his voice still subdued. "Russell was already lost. We were almost outta ammo—we were down to pistols by then. I was limpin…it was bad…ankle all swollen up…"

He paused, and Jenna closed her eyes again, wondering where he would take it from there.

"'We gotta save the boy,'" Shane went on. "That's what he said… He gave me his backpack, he shoved me ahead. 'Run,' he said. He said, 'I'll take the rear—I'll cover you.' Then when I looked back…"

Shane paused again, and spared the woman the gory details when he continued.

"If not for Otis," he said, limping toward the wheelbarrow and picking up a stone like the rest of them had before, "I'da never made it out alive. An' that goes for Carl too, thanks to Otis. He saved us both… If any death ever had meaning, it was his," he said, and Jenna knew that he was speaking to Patricia directly now.

There was a brief, soft clatter of rock against rock as Shane set the stone down upon the pillar, and Patricia began to weep quietly again.

Rick cleared his throat after a moment of heavy silence among them, and Jenna closed her eyes again, knowing what must've been coming next. She really did not want to hear any of this.

"We didn't know Russell very well," he began. "He was only with us for a couple days. But he was an asset to the group while he was with us. He was always ready to help. Always real friendly, to everyone. He died out there helpin my son…an' I'll never forget that. He'll be missed."

Jenna recalled the last image she had of Russell out in the churchyard, remembering the way his predatory gaze was zeroed in on Dusty.

Her eyes shifted over toward Shane for a moment, seeing that he had his head bowed, his hands folded in front of him. He was glaring down at the ground while he listened to Rick's words. Jenna looked back down at the ground in front of her own feet, giving Dusty's hand a light squeeze.

Jenna wouldn't waste any time missing Russell. That was a certainty.

* * *

"How long's this girl been lost?" Hershel asked them while they stood around the Cherokee, leaning against the hood.

Jenna handed her bottle of water over to Daryl from where she stood between he and Shane on one side of the hood of the car, with Rick and Hershel on the other, and Andrea standing in front of the bumper. Jenna didn't have it in her to be annoyed by the older woman's haughty demeanor today—pretentiousness was practically radiating off her—and just paid attention to the discussion at hand.

Jenna wiped sweat from her brow. The sun was glaring down at them with full force already and it wasn't even noon yet. She was just grateful that she'd had the opportunity to change out of her heavy cargo pants and into her jeans that morning when she'd woken up. Shane had to wait for the group to arrive with his belongings before he'd been able to change out of his bloody clothes from the night before.

"This'll be day three," Rick answered Hershel.

He didn't have to voice what they all knew—the longer Sophia spent out in those woods, the less likely her chances were of being found alive. But they weren't about to give up. Not until they found her—one way or the other.

"County survey map," said Maggie as she approached at Andrea's left, unrolling a large terrain map on the hood of the car for them all to see. "Shows terrain and elevations."

Jenna reached forward along with Rick, Shane, and Hershel to hold down the sides of the map so it wouldn't curl back into itself, and Maggie set down a few small stones to hold it in place so they could let go.

"This is perfect," said Shane, studying the map.

"We can finally get this thing organized," agreed Rick. "We'll grid the whole area, and start searchin in teams."

"Not you, not today," contradicted Hershel. "You gave three units of blood. And the same goes for you," he said, turning to Jenna. "You gave two units of blood last night, which is sayin a lot for someone your size. Neither of you would be hikin five minutes in this heat before passin out." He turned to Shane then. "An' your ankle—push it now, you'll be laid up a month."

"Guess it's jus' me," said Daryl as he took the map, and Jenna couldn't tell if he was aware of the slightly affronted expression on Andrea's face, or if he was just ignoring it. "I'ma head back to the creek, work my way from there."

Rick nodded, agreeing. His eyes, Jenna noticed, were shadowed by light purple, accentuated by the paler shade of his overall complexion—evidence of the toll the blood transfusions had taken on his body. Though she hated to admit it, Jenna was sure that she looked very similar.

"I could still be useful," said Shane then. "Drive up to the interstate—see if Sophia wandered back."

"Alright," Rick concurred, and turned to Jenna. "You feel well enough to go with 'im?"

"Wait a minute," said Maggie, looking between Jenna and Rick when Jenna nodded in agreement. "Y'all are sendin her out there?"

Jenna smirked slightly. "Not as helpless as I look, I promise," she said wryly, ignoring the look of mild contempt she was receiving from Andrea, who seemed to be struggling not to scoff.

"She's a good shot," said Rick in explanation. "She can handle herself, an' with Shane's ankle as bad as it is, he shouldn't be the only one armed out there."

"I'll talk to Dusty, ask her to keep an eye on Thao while I'm gone," said Jenna. How many times had Dusty pulled through for her already? Dusty was one of the very few people Jenna trusted with Thao's safety. She really owed her for all she'd done. Somehow, she'd find a way to pay her back.

"Lori could help with that," Rick offered. "It'd be the least we can do."

Jenna put a hand up lightly. "Thanks, but you both have enough to worry about," she reminded him. "Dusty never seems to mind."

Rick nodded, conceding. "Tomorrow, then," he said to all of them, "we'll start doin this right."

"That means we can't have our people out there with just knives," said Shane. "We need to give these people the gun trainin we been promisin."

Jenna didn't entirely agree with that—a person could do a lot with a blade, and do it more quietly than they would have been able to with a gun—but chose to keep her opinion to herself. She knew exactly which way the majority favor would lean in this case. Guns made people feel safer.

Rick nodded again, agreeing to that, and Andrea looked thoroughly pleased.

"I'd prefer you not carry guns on my property," Hershel said, mildly but firmly. "We've managed so far without turnin this into an army camp."

Jenna knew that wouldn't go over very well, and waited to see how the dice rolled. Predictably, it was Andrea who voiced her disagreement almost immediately.

"With all due respect," she began—her tone negating the sentiment as she crossed her arms and turned to face the old man fully, "if you get a crowd of those things wandering in here, we'll need those guns."

"We're guests here," Rick reminded her, and then turned to Hershel. "This is your property, and we _will_ respect that."

With that, he pulled the Colt Python from its holster and laid it down on top of the map. Following his lead, Jenna pulled the Beretta from her belt and set it next to the revolver easily, unruffled. Shane followed suit much more reluctantly, dropping his Glock down with their firearms. Jenna noticed the Ladysmith tucked into Andrea's pants at her hip, partially hidden from view by her shirt, and chose not to comment when she neglected to add it to the others.

"First thing's first," said Rick then, "set up camp, find Sophia."

Jenna hesitated, but then spoke up, knowing that it was important this time. "I really hate to have to ask this, but…what if…what if we find her, and she's been bitten?"

Rick looked reluctant to voice an answer.

"She's right," said Shane. "Hard as it is, we need to be very clear on how we handle that."

Rick nodded then, working himself up to speak. "We do what needs to be done," he decided solemnly.

Maggie looked startled, staring back at Rick. "An' her mother? What do you tell her?"

"The truth," said Andrea with a scoff.

Jenna's eyes darted over to the woman immediately, and she had to resist the urge to reach across Shane and give her a solid punch to the jaw. Honestly, how fucking cold-hearted could a person be? Did she think it would be that easy to tell Carol that her only child was a _walker_?

So much for not having it in her to want to throttle the woman.

Maggie looked taken aback—horrified, even—by Andrea's callous comment. Jenna didn't miss the incredulous look she gave her father, or the disapproving subtle shake of his head in return.

"I'll gather an' secure all the weapons," said Shane, attracting everyone's attention then, "make sure no one's carryin until we're on a practice range off-site. I do request one rifleman on lookout," he said to Hershel. "Dale's got experience."

Hershel didn't look to be close to agreeing to anything, which perked even Jenna's curiosity. She could understand his desire to keep his home as peaceful as possible, but wouldn't he at least want some bit of protection? Or had there not been much of anything to give the Greene family a reason for defending themselves thus far? The property was mercifully cut off from the outside world, after all.

"Our people would feel safer," Rick reasoned with the man, "less inclined to carry a gun."

Hershel considered that for a long moment, before nodding his consent.

"Thank you," said Rick sincerely.

Shane collected his and Rick's guns, and Jenna picked up her own again, so he wouldn't have to carry two in one hand. "I'll help you," she said, and he nodded.

Daryl returned her water bottle and clapped her on the shoulder as they both pushed away from the car, heading in different directions. She walked with Shane to the RV, nodding at Glenn on the way while he helped Lori set up the Grimes' tent.

"I'll get them," she said to Shane when they reached the RV. She wasn't sure how much he should've been walking up and down stairs with his ankle as bad as it was.

He looked to be about to protest, but she didn't give him the chance, moving into the RV before he could say anything. She pulled the gun bag from the small closet and hoisted it over her shoulder, staggering a bit—it was much heavier than she'd thought. Or, perhaps that was just a side-effect of the loss of blood.

He took the bag from her before she even stepped down onto the ground again, and silently, they made their way to the old wooden picnic table in the middle of their campsite.

She settled herself down onto one of the bench seats as he set the bag onto the table, taking a seat beside her. Working in companionable silence, they began to empty their own firearms. She emptied the magazine and removed the round from the chamber before detaching the slide from the frame, and looked up as Andrea approached the table, looking highly displeased. Jenna didn't know whether it was her presence that was pissing the older woman off so much, or the fact that she was once again being forced to hand over her gun—or both.

"Give up our guns?" she asked in a disgusted tone of voice, speaking to Shane.

He sighed, not looking up from his stripped Glock. "You heard Rick," said, his tone placating, "we're guests here."

"And you're okay with it?" she demanded doubtfully.

He shrugged. "I don't recall bein _asked_ to lay down my weapon," he pointed out, reminding her that it wasn't up to him, and that he wasn't any happier about it than she was.

"You may like rolling over," she said snidely, "I don't."

Thankfully, Shane seemed to be growing as tired of the woman's griping as Jenna was, for he looked up at her and made her an offer he knew she would jump on. "Look, we gotta strip an' clean 'em anyway," he said, tilting his head toward Jenna at his left. "You wanna learn?"

Jenna glanced up to see that Andrea looked torn between wanting to argue her case further and wanting to take Shane up on the offer.

"Go on," he urged, gesturing at the table between them.

With an exasperated sigh, she plunked her gun down on the table, taking a seat across from him. Jenna glanced over her shoulder to check on Thao, who was sitting in a foldout chair at the center of the campsite, thoroughly engrossed in the toy he held in his lap. Seeing that he was fine, she proceeded with disassembling her own gun, laying the pieces out on her bandana in front of her.

"Unload your weapon," Shane instructed, setting down the slide and frame of his own gun.

Andrea picked up her Ladysmith and began to release the magazine—Jenna straightened up and froze automatically when she saw that the pistol was pointed directly at Shane.

"Hey, hey," said Shane, carefully moving the gun to the side so that it was aimed off to the right, and Jenna relaxed again. "Check the chamber—pull it back," he told her when the cartridge had been removed. When the chamber was checked, and no bullet found inside, he moved on. "Push that lever out," he said, pointing to show her the slide release. "It'll slide off."

Andrea did as instructed and set the pieces down on the table in front of her, looking very pleased with herself.

"You're half way there," said Shane, reaching for the cleaning equipment.

"Mom?" a voice coming from the center of the campsite called as Shane proceeded to instruct Andrea on how to clean her gun.

For a moment, Jenna forgot that two of the three children of the group were not in the area, and, not being accustomed to being called by that particular moniker, she didn't look up in response to the call.

"Mom?" they called again, and Jenna registered that it was Thao's voice—calling to get her attention.

For a brief moment, all she could do was watch him approach, stunned into silence. She recovered in the next instant, however. "Yeah, sweetheart?" she asked, just as casually as she always did—just as casually as he'd addressed her a moment ago.

He moved around the table to draw near her, and she set the cleaning brush down.

"Careful, there's guns here," she warned him as he came to stand at her side, and turned around slightly to face him.

"I can't find my books," he told her.

"I think you left them in your backpack, in the small pocket on the front," she told him, remembering that was the last place she'd seen them. "It's in the tent."

"Okay," he said, nodding.

She kissed his head and patted his back, sending him off. Watching him maneuver around the table, she picked up the brush again. When he'd retrieved one of his comics and settled back into the foldout chair, she returned her gaze down to her disassembled gun.

"Told ya," said Shane in an undertone—sounding rather smug.

She smirked slightly. "Shut up."

Once she'd cleaned and reassembled her own gun, she pulled the Remington shotgun carefully from the bag and unloaded it, storing the rounds into the box before setting to work with cleaning it. She pushed the box of ammo out of her way to make room for the larger gun and scooted over to her left so as to not crowd Shane's workspace.

"Are you military?" Andrea asked, catching Jenna off-guard when she realized she wasn't talking to Shane, but to her.

She smirked wryly, looking up at the woman briefly. "No, I just have a thing for guns," she said easily, not about to go into detailed information on that particular topic.

"You have a thing for assault rifles?" the woman asked, a hint of doubt in her voice.

Jenna shrugged, brushing down the shotgun. "Between Washington and Georgia, I picked up a few things."

"Oh," said Andrea—strangely sounding to be in a better mood than usual. Perhaps getting the chance to learn about her own gun had softened her normally snide disposition. "I always thought those were dog tags," she commented, gesturing to the chain around Jenna's neck.

Jenna looked down and pulled the long chain from beneath her shirt, revealing the large silver locket at the end.

"Antique," Andrea noted, sounding a bit surprised.

"My grandmother left it to me when she died," Jenna explained, tucking the locket back into her shirt for safe-keeping, and passed the brush to Shane, who had moved on from his Glock to his Mossberg.

"How long have you been certified?" Andrea wondered, watching her work.

Jenna didn't understand why the woman seemed to be taking such a keen interest in her now, of all times, or why she seemed so neutral. _Seems like the Midol's just kicked in, _she mused, thinking back to Dusty's comment back on the highway—and successfully containing the smirk that almost gave her away.

"Five years now," she responded, deciding to play nice as long as Andrea was willing.

Andrea frowned. "How old were you?"

"Seventeen."

"What got you into guns?" she questioned, puzzled. "You grew up in the city in the North," she went on, explaining her confusion. "That's pretty uncommon."

Jenna shrugged simply. "My dad liked to hunt," she offered up honestly enough, hoping that would pacify the woman's interest.

It seemed to, for she nodded and returned her attention to the gun Shane was disassembling, and Jenna was grateful that the inquiry was apparently over. She caught Dusty's gaze across the camp, who was down near Thao, constructing a fire pit with Carol. She gave Jenna a puzzled "what the hell?" expression, clearly having heard Andrea's questions. Jenna just raised her brows in a gesture of cluelessness, and had to look back down at the shotgun intently to keep herself from laughing, as Dusty was trying to do discreetly in the distance.

Jenna had just emptied the cylinder of one of their mid-sized Smith & Wesson revolvers when Lori approached the table, peach in hand.

"Patricia wanted to make sure you're eatin," she said, holding the peach out to Jenna. "She says you an' Rick need to be sure to keep your blood sugar up, so you don't go passin out."

"Thanks," said Jenna, accepting the peach from Lori and taking a bite.

The woman just smiled down at her slightly, and took Jenna by surprise when she leaned down and kissed her hair, much like Jenna often did with Thao. Lori had been going all Mama Bear on her since the morning started, and Jenna knew it was in gratitude. Though she wished Lori and Rick would just let it go, she didn't vocalize or display it in any way. They were both still partially recovering from the previous night's events, and Jenna wasn't about to take their heads off for it or anything. So she just nodded at Lori, giving her a small smile, and finished with loading the newly emptied and cleaned firearms back into the bag along with the ammunition.

Andrea volunteered to load the guns into the RV, and Jenna had only just made her way to Thao, who was still thoroughly engrossed in the comic book, when Dale approached camp, his Remington rifle still slung over his shoulder.

He looked very alarmed and tensed up about something, and Jenna scanned the property, looking for whatever danger may have been present, and not spotting anything.

"We have a bit of a problem at the well," he said, nodding across the field to where T-Dog stood in the distance, seeming to be peering into said well.

"What kinda problem?" asked Maggie as she approached with Glenn.

Dale looked hesitant to say, looking around at the campsite, his eyes landing on Thao. "It might be better if you just come and take a look," he suggested.

Jenna patted Thao's head, and he peered up at her inquiringly. "Buddy, why don't you go sit inside the RV for a bit, alright?" she said, stroking his sleek hair gently. "We've gotta go check something out for a minute."

"Okay," he said sliding out of the seat. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure yet," she told him truthfully. "Just go on inside, and I'll tell you about it later. Close the door behind you," she reminded him.

"I will," he promised.

She smiled and patted his back, sending him on his way. When he'd climbed the steps of the RV and closed the door, she and Dusty followed after the group who had set off toward the well across the yard, near the fenced off grazing field where the cattle resided.

"Thought we couldn't carry," said Dusty, nodding down at the machete attached to Jenna's belt.

She shrugged. "The man didn't say anything about blades."

They shared a smirk, and then turned their attention to the matter at hand as they approached the well, the group forming a bit of a circle around it so they could all peer inside.

"Holy _fuck_…" Jenna muttered, unable to articulate anything better than that.

"No kiddin," mumbled T-Dog at her right.


	34. Sweet Southern Comfort

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead, nor do I intend any copyright, and do I really need to say this for every chapter?**

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and eventual smut.

* * *

_"It's the possibility that keeps me going, not the guarantee."_

_—Nicholas Sparks_

* * *

Sweet Southern Comfort

Down in the well, waist deep in the water, was a walker—a walker more disgusting than Jenna had ever seen before, which was saying a _lot_. It had obviously been in the well for some time, for its eyes were completely swollen over in protruding lumps, and its flesh seemed to have absorbed about as much water as physically possible. Though this walker had obviously been overweight to begin with, the added water weight definitely contributed to the gloppy mass. The walker looked as though it was wearing a full-body fat suit made out of nothing but pure fat. And if that wasn't bad enough, it was leaking putrid blood from just about every crease in its flabby skin.

"Oh, God…" Dusty half-gagged, clapping a hand over her mouth.

"Looks like we got us a swimmer," said Dale grimly, leaning over between Shane and Andrea to peer down the well as the walker snarled and clawed at them from below, and shining a flashlight so they could see clearly. The snarls echoed within the well, and the water sloshed around it as it moved, trying to reach them.

"How long do you think it's been down there?" Glenn asked no one in particular, seeming to be musing aloud.

"Long enough to grow gills," said Andrea disgustedly.

"We can't leave it in there," Lori told them, peering down the well, hands on her hips. "God knows what it's doin to the water."

"We've gotta get it outta there," Glenn understood.

"Easy, put a bullet in its head," said T-Dog. "Rope it and haul it up."

"Whoa, whoa, guys," said Maggie, putting a hand up and looking around at them sternly. "_No_," she said in a firm tone.

"Why not?" asked Glenn, puzzled. "It's a good plan."

"It's a stupid plan," snapped Andrea snidely. _Looks like the Midol wore off_. "If that thing hasn't contaminated the water yet, blowing its brains out will finish the job."

"I'd say the water's a lost cause," said Jenna dryly, watching as the bloated walker raked its hands across the rock wall in front of it, trying to climb its way up to them. The tips of its fingers were a sickening gray-blue. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I think I'd rather take my chances drinking out of puddles."

"Shoot, I'll be right there with ya," said Dusty as T-Dog grunted in apparent agreement.

"They're right," said Shane, and Andrea shot him a scathing look. "We should still get it out, even so. Can't jus' leave it in there."

"Look, we're not killin it in there," said Maggie firmly, putting her hands up. Everyone could see how adamant the woman was, and none of them were inclined to argue with her. It was her home, after all, not theirs.

"So it has to come out alive," muttered T-Dog.

Shane's lips quirked up in a slight smirk. "So to speak."

"How do we do that?" Glenn wondered.

Maggie went back to the house to find something to use as bait to make it easier for them to rope the walker. Admittedly, Jenna really didn't think it was going to be tempted by anything she brought back, unless it was alive and moving. She'd never seen a walker go after something that _wasn't_ alive and moving.

Sure enough, when Maggie returned with a canned ham and they strung it and lowered it down within the walker's reach, it barely even acknowledged the meat for more than a few seconds. It just continued to snarl, sloshing around in the water, looking for a way to get up to the live food that stood above it in a circle.

"He's not goin for it," sighed Dale, who was holding the line.

"Yeah, 'cause a canned ham don't kick an' scream when you try to eat it," said T-Dog flatly, stating the obvious, and Jenna could tell that he deemed this whole situation about as trivial as she did. The water was of no further use to anyone, so why didn't they just end things and call it a day? They had other things to worry about.

"He's right," muttered Lori. "There's a reason the dead didn't come back to life and start raiding our cupboards."

"We need live bait," said Andrea, looking over at Glenn on her left expectantly.

Glenn looked back at her after a moment, seeming to realize that she was referring to him, and his eyes widened for a moment when the meaning of her words set in. Jenna was sure he was going to protest—which would've been the only natural response to such a blatant disregard for a person's life—but instead his face took on an expression of dreadful resignation.

Jenna could not keep her thoughts to herself that time, and surprised everyone with her sudden outburst.

"Oh, _fuck_ no, you're not going down there," she said to Glenn directly, looking up at him from across the well. "There's no way in hell."

Glenn looked startled to be put on the spot and looked around at the others, who were looking between them, still surprised from Jenna's choice to speak up so strongly, as it was a bit of a rarity. "I-I'll do it," he said. "I-I mean—"

"Like hell you will," Jenna said, not moving her gaze from his, pinning him with a glare.

She'd pin him to the ground, tie his hands and feet together and sit on him if she had to, but there was no way in hell she was about to let anyone use Glenn as _live bait_. How the fuck Andrea had even considered it was beyond Jenna.

"I don't think that's up to you," said Andrea, crossing her arms over her chest and giving her head a haughty little wave.

"It ain't up to _you_ either," Dusty pointed out, giving Andrea a glower. "You think we need live bait, then you're more 'n welcome to rope yourself up and dangle down there like a worm on a hook. Don't be volunteerin any of _us_."

Andrea seemed to be about to argue further, but Shane spoke up, cutting her off before she could start.

"No one's goin down there," he said adamantly. "We'll just have to rope it without bait."

Needless to say, it was a long process. Trying to get the rope in the right position from so far above was much, much easier said than done. But, eventually, Shane managed to get the walker at a good angle, with some added help from the walker itself. As soon as its left arm moved through the hoop at the end, it began to flail its arms as though to attack it, snarling and gnashing its teeth more viciously. It ended up tangling itself in the rope, and they had it strung around its head and under the right arm.

With the walker roped, the group all got in a line behind Shane to grab the rope, save for T-Dog and Jenna, who—under Shane's orders—were not permitted to assist, considering how strenuous the task was. She chose not to be petty and remind him of the condition of his ankle.

They stood at the side of the well, watching the walker's progression as the others pulled it upward.

"C'mon, y'all, together," Shane urged them as they struggled with the weight of the bloated, water-soaked walker. "C'mon, pull!"

"Almost there," Jenna told them, releasing the machete from her belt and then handing it to T-Dog, as they had agreed beforehand. She really didn't like being babied—this damsel-in-distress thing was really rather grating—but she had to admit that there was a good reason for it. Which made it all the more aggravating.

"Watch out, guys," Shane urged Jenna and T-Dog as the head of the walker rose to the well's surface.

Jenna moved back obligingly, not wanting to be any closer to this particular walker than she had to be. Impossibly, it smelled worse than it looked—and up close, it looked ten times as bad as it had from the bottom of the well. T-Dog took a step back out of the reach of the vile grasping hands as the walker was pulled slowly over the edge of the well, struggling and snarling all the while.

"It's stuck," Jenna told them when the belt that held up the walker's soaked, stained denim pants was caught on the edge.

"Come on, pull!" Dale urged as they all tugged harder on the rope.

And then, suddenly, the flesh of the walker's abdomen stretched and tore away from itself, not up to the task of being dragged and tugged over a stone edge. Jenna stepped back again as the bottom half of the walker ripped away from the top, a deluge of putrid blood and gore spilling into the well along with the legs.

Repulsed, Jenna turned her gaze away from the sight, putting the back of her hand over her mouth as a wave of nausea washed over her. Thankfully, she wasn't overcome by it that time.

With half the weight gone, most of the group holding onto the rope fell backward, dragging the remaining upper body over the edge and onto the ground finally. And still, the arms were flailing, grasping, and it was snarling even more furiously, desperately wanting to get close to one of them, even now. The lower half of its body might as well have remained attached for all the notice the walker gave.

"We should just seal off this well…" muttered Dale as he and the others got to their feet again.

"Hmm," said Shane, running a hand over his hair. "Might be a good idea," he said wryly, shaking his head as he gazed down at the maimed walker.

Andrea pointed to it. "So what do we do about—"

Her question was answered when T-Dog brought the blade of Jenna's machete careening down and cracking into the thing's skull a few times, growling in exertion—and exasperation, Jenna assumed. He straightened up again when he'd blown off some steam and the walker's bloated face was completely unrecognizable. His eyes moved over to Andrea, giving her a sardonic glare.

"Good thing we didn't do anything stupid like shoot it," he said flatly.

With that, he handed Jenna her machete and strode off toward the campsite. Jenna flicked the excess blood from the blade and pulled the small towel from her back pocket, wiping away the rest, looking down at the mutilated walker.

She looked back at the well and shook her head, just glad the Greenes' property had three other wells to choose from. She really didn't understand why Maggie made such a fuss about killing the walker while it was in the well, considering the water was a lost cause to begin with. Maybe the woman was hoping that it was still salvageable. Jenna stood by what she'd said before—she would rather be drinking out of puddles than ingesting anything a walker had been soaking in for God only knew how long.

After the mess they'd made, they then worked to clean up the area and seal the well off as Dale suggested. In order to comply with doctor's orders, Jenna agreed to Shane's insistences to sit that task out, and instead headed back to the campsite to help Carol with getting the laundry organized for cleaning—something they hadn't had the chance to do for some time. It was both a blessing and a curse not having many clothing items to choose from, in Jenna's opinion. It gave you less to clean and carry, in any case, and as long as your clothing was durable, they could take a lot of wear-and-tear before they needed replacing. She'd selected her cargo pants and Timberlands from a Cabela's in Oklahoma for that very reason, and found a decently fitting pair for Thao as well. His sneakers had been in bad shape just a week after she'd found him.

She looked up from the pile of laundry from her tent, watching Thao playing with his Hot Wheels in the dirt near the yet-to-be-used fire pit, engrossed in his own little game. Apparently, he was racing his two favorite cars—the orange Viper and the blue Jaguar—against each other.

He'd called her "mom" earlier, which had thrown her completely off-balance for a moment. But what really surprised Jenna was how quickly she'd been able to recover.

When Shane told her she was his mother back in the nursing home that night after the CDC, she'd laughed. Not because she didn't consider Thao her boy—her son. She'd considered him hers from the moment she'd met him. He was her boy, and there was nothing that could change that now. But she'd never considered herself his mother, or a mother in any sense. It was a strange dichotomy that she'd just grown accustomed to, and before, she hadn't had to explain it to anyone else, so it wasn't addressed.

Back at camp, that first day…so many people asked about the connection between her and Thao. She'd kept it simple for them, both to pacify them and because she honestly couldn't answer the question herself. She'd just told them, "I'm not his mother, but I'm all he's got." But was that really true, she wondered now? Had she really not been his mother up until very recently?

Perhaps she'd just been uncertain; when it came to motherhood, Jenna had very few parallels to draw from, and she'd lost that ability years ago anyway. But it seemed now that Thao had made this decision for the both of them. He'd claimed her as his mother, thus declaring himself her son. And, to be honest, now that Thao had made this decision, Jenna felt much more sure about it. She could be his mother, so long as he saw her fit for the position. He'd been the deciding factor that kept them with the group, and that worked out miraculously well, all things considering.

As ever, Thao was her saving grace, more than she was his.

Halfway through sorting a pile of hers, Thao's, and Dusty's clothes, Jenna glanced up as the others made their way back to the campsite—save for Lori, who went back to the house to be with Carl, and Glenn and Maggie, who went to the stables to get their horses ready for their run into town.

Dusty settled down beside Jenna to help with their laundry, and Dale went to go resume taking watch on top of the RV. Andrea stalked into the RV with a sour expression on her face, and Jenna wondered what exactly had pissed her off this time.

"Hey, kiddo," said Shane to Thao as he limped up to the camp center.

"Hey," said Thao, looking up at him curiously. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, little man," Shane assured the boy. "Leg's jus' a little sore, that's all."

"You got hurt?" Thao wondered, concern flashing across his little face as he studied the man before him intently.

"Yeah, a little bit, but I'll be alright," said Shane easily.

Thao nodded, apparently satisfied with that answer, and then turned his attention back to his cars.

"Who's winnin?" Shane asked, crouching down beside the boy and looking down at the obvious race that was going on.

"The Jag," said Thao, without missing a beat.

Jenna moved her hand over her mouth to stifle the bit of laughter that wanted to escape, dropping Dusty's shirt on top of the pile in front of her. She and Thao had spent quite a bit of time discussing cars during their travels together.

Shane looked to be struggling to contain his own laughter, smirking slightly. "Oh yeah?" he asked, amusement evident in his voice. "I had my money on the Viper."

Thao shook his head. "The Jag's faster than the Viper," he said knowledgably.

At Jenna's right, Dusty giggled lightly, and Jenna's own laughter was muffled by her hand. This had to be one of the most adorable conversations she'd ever eavesdropped on. Shane glanced up at them, smirking, and then looked down at Thao again.

"Guess I'll know better next time, huh, bud?" he said, and ruffled the boy's hair as he stood up straight again with some effort. He nodded at Jenna as he moved through the campsite, seeming to be heading for the RV. "Ready to go?" he asked.

Jenna thought about telling him he should wait a while to give his ankle some rest, but when she saw the hopeful expression on Carol's face, she just nodded, rising to her feet.

"Don't worry," said Dusty, patting Jenna on the shoulder before she could say anything, "I got the little guy."

She nodded. "Thanks, I owe you one."

"Hmm!" hummed Dusty in agreement, and they both laughed lightly before Jenna made her way over to the RV after Shane.

"Here," he said when he came out with his own Mossberg strapped over his shoulder. He held one of their Smith & Wesson revolvers out to her. "Know you like your Beretta, but this one was quicker to load."

She smirked slightly, tucking the revolver into her belt. As long as she had her machete, she'd be just fine out there.

With a quick goodbye to Thao and Dusty, Jenna piled into the green Hyundai with Shane, Carol, and Andrea. Jenna took the wheel, seeing as she'd already made this drive, and so Shane didn't have to struggle to drive with his left foot. The drive from the farm to the highway seemed much shorter than it had the night before, and before she knew it, Jenna was pulling the Hyundai to a stop at the same traffic jam where everything had gone wrong just days ago.

She and Shane stepped out of the car first, on high-alert, and gave the area a good scan before waving Carol and Andrea out of the car after them.

No sooner was Carol weaving through cars in rushed movements, set on her course. Jenna followed after her a bit slower, constantly moving her eyes around the area in all directions, just in case they missed something before. They came to a stop at an open spot in the traffic jam, and Jenna looked around, realizing she was standing exactly where the RV had been parked.

Carol stood at the side of the hood of an old sand colored Buick, her hands pressed firmly against the metal surface as she stared at the message that was painted on the windshield: SOPHIA STAY HERE WE WILL COME EVERY DAY. Just a few inches away from Carol's hands was a small stash of food and water for her daughter, should she wander back to the highway at some point. Everything looked to have remained untouched from the night before, telling them one thing; no one had come through in the meantime, including Sophia.

The little girl was nowhere in sight, and Jenna swallowed down her growing doubt. She didn't want to give up on that little girl, but it was so hard to hold on to the hope of finding her alive. The longer she remained missing, the more the odds were of finding her dead—or worse.

Jenna decided to scout up ahead a few paces, and laid a hand on Carol's shoulder as she passed. She said nothing, because no words could make things okay for the poor woman.

With her machete resting on her shoulder, she wove through the cars quietly, listening to all the sounds around her; the wind in the trees, the sound of her own footsteps on the pavement beneath her, the others moving around behind her.

She looked down when she stepped on something soft, and picked up the blue flannel shirt laying on the pavement beside a rusted out Ford F150. It was a little on the large side for her—she guessed it had belonged to a slim young man—but it was clean enough, and it wasn't torn or worn out at all. It would make another shirt for her to choose from, in any case. Sorting laundry earlier had reminded exactly how much of her things she'd lost in Atlanta weeks ago.

She tied the shirt around her waist and continued her scouting, eyes searching for any sign of Sophia. But she was no tracker, and so she had no idea what to look for, really. All she could do was hope Daryl had better luck out in the woods than they were having out on the highway. His tracking skills might just be able to save that little girl, if anything could. Hell, Daryl was probably Sophia's only hope at survival at this point.

Footsteps behind her had Jenna spinning around quickly, and she relaxed the grip on her machete when she spotted Shane approaching. He almost seemed to be smirking at her reaction.

"You really need to stop sneaking up on people, man," she said, trying to keep her expression neutral—and failing.

"Hm, maybe you jus' need to start payin attention," he quipped back amusedly. And then his expression sobered a bit, looking around the highway, both of them remembering the reason for coming back out in the first place. "We're gonna scout through the fields a bit. See if we can find anythin out there."

Jenna knew they were both well aware of the lack of hope in his tone.

She nodded and walked with him back to the Buick, where Carol and Andrea were standing, moving slow enough to keep pace with his limping gait.

"That shirt looks a little big for ya," he commented, breaking the silence between them.

She looked down at the flannel fabric around her waist, and shrugged. "I have exactly two pairs of pants and three shirts to choose from, and half those came from Dusty. I'll take what I can get."

When she saw that he was smirking, she frowned in puzzlement. "You really don't complain much, do ya?" he asked, as though by means of explanation.

She shrugged again. "What's complaining gonna do for me?"

He let out a low chuckle, and looked over at her conspiratorially. "Don't tell Rick I said this, but Lori could sure take a page outta your book, girl."

Jenna smirked slightly, believing that. "So could Andrea," she mumbled.

They successfully neutralized their expressions by the time they reached the Buick, and Jenna let Shane take the lead into the brush and trees, since he apparently knew where to find the fields he was talking about. She brought up the rear, keeping the revolver tucked into her belt and the machete resting on her shoulder as they moved. She remained vigilant, scanning her eyes all around so as not to be taken by surprise by anything—there were plenty of places for things to hide in the trees.

It wasn't long at all before they broke through the brush and into an old, unkempt field. The old, rotting fence up ahead told Jenna that the field had been someone's property at one point, but from the looks of things, it had been neglected for at least a few years.

She turned around while she walked, keeping up with the other three, looking around at the expanse of the field. She didn't voice the fact that she doubted Sophia had come through here.

Andrea pointed out the fence line, telling Shane that it looked like a good place to line up targets for shooting practice. Jenna turned back around when she was satisfied that nothing would be sneaking up on them anytime soon, and took another look at the fence line. She had to agree with the woman—it was a perfect spot for target practice.

"You're right," Shane told Andrea as they came upon the fence. "If we set targets up along the fence line, the hill would make a natural backstop. Good idea."

"Thanks," said Andrea, running her hands out over the tops of the long strands of grass absently. "So how long before I can carry?" she asked after a pause, and Jenna suppressed a sigh—she'd been wondering how long it would be before Andrea started griping about guns again.

Shane just blew out a quick, dry laugh. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

Jenna waited for it, and she didn't have to wait long before Andrea was snapping in anger. "I'm not in a very patient frame of mind these days, Shane—you might've noticed that."

Jenna decided to spare Shane his breath. "Which is all the more reason you shouldn't be carrying," she said honestly as they came to a stop at the fence, and met Andrea's glower impassively. "Like Shane said yesterday—we can't afford for people to be trigger-happy these days."

"If someone took the gun out of _your_ hands constantly, you'd be singing a different tune," said Andrea contemptuously.

"You might've noticed, I gave up my gun without a complaint this morning," Jenna replied pointedly. "People don't take the gun out of my hands because I've been trained, and I never waste a bullet unless I have to. If I wasn't, then I'd let someone else waste bullets, and stick to a blade."

Andrea was not about to back down, however. "Well, if you had your gun taken from you when you needed it the most, you wouldn't be so happy about it either."

Jenna shrugged slightly. "Maybe," she agreed. "I'm assuming you're talking about what happened in the RV?"

"What else?" demanded Andrea, as though stating the obvious. "I could've died because someone took my gun out of my hand."

Jenna rolled her eyes slightly and leaned back against the fence. "I get it, you're pissed off, but you know what that whole situation should've taught you?" She went on before Andrea could open her mouth. "It should've taught you that you don't need a gun to kill a walker. Yes, maybe Dale crossed the line when he took your gun without asking, but the truth is, if you _had_ fired a shot in that RV, you would've been dead for sure. Every walker on the road would've heard it, and they would've been cramming into the RV, and you _would've_ died—and probably brought the rest of us down with you."

Andrea's lips were pressed into a thin line as she glared at Jenna balefully. Shane and Carol were leaning against the old fence a little ways away from them, pretending not to be paying attention to the two women. Jenna was unperturbed by Andrea's withering glower.

"So, if you really wanna be able to defend yourself, find a weapon with a blade and learn how to use it," she continued after a beat. She swung her machete around in an easy circle in front of her. "This never runs out of ammo, and it's quiet. I've taken down more walkers with this than I have with any gun I've used, and that's probably why I'm alive today."

Andrea gave Jenna a final searing glare before pushing away from the fence and stalking off. Jenna just smirked slightly and rested the machete on her shoulder again before moving to go and join Shane and Carol. Andrea could be pissed off all she wanted, but Jenna stood by what she said; the last thing anyone needed was for an impatient emotional rollercoaster of a woman to be walking around with a firearm. And, truthfully, Jenna had just been looking for an excuse to lay into the woman after the whole ordeal with the walker in the well. She still couldn't fathom how someone could disregard someone else's life that way—especially someone who had such a chip on their shoulder for having their means of protection taken away from them.

Jenna's body swayed a bit as she moved, and she closed her eyes in response to the sudden dizziness that engulfed her head. She put a hand out quickly and gripped the rough wood of the fence to steady herself, waiting for it to pass.

"Y'alright?" Shane's gruff voice asked as he approached, limping toward her.

She nodded and took a welcome drink from the canteen he held out, and knew that she probably should've eaten something before leaving. She wondered when exactly her body would recover from the blood transfusions.

"Just another day in paradise," she muttered wryly, passing the canteen back to him.

He laughed under his breath as they walked a few paces behind Carol and Andrea, heading back to the highway. "You're tellin me."

Jenna had to admit, even though she could still see that haunted shadow in his eyes, it was good to hear Shane laugh again, even minimally.

"Ya know," he added slyly, limping beside her, "if ya get a little too tired, you could always lean on me, girl."

She sniggered slightly and cut her eyes over to him, seeing him biting down on his lip to stifle his laughter. "Funny, I was just gonna tell you the same thing," she retorted, trying and failing to keep a straight face.

He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head amusedly. "Yeah…guess we're both in bad shape, huh?"

Jenna kept her eyes on Carol and Andrea's backs ahead of them, trying not to think of the double meaning of that statement. "Maybe," she agreed. "But I have a feeling we'll be just fine."

She met his gaze then, and for the first time, she started to believe those words. For the first time, she started to feel…_better_. Maybe she and Shane would be just fine, or close enough to it, if they just gave it enough time…if they could hold on that long. And something in the set of his maple eyes told Jenna that Shane seemed to be right there with her in that sense.

Perhaps she'd been wrong before…maybe things _could_ get better.

* * *

**Note: **

I'm so sorry for the delayed update. I'm on vacation clear across the United States from where I live, and I've been settling in to my new surroundings. Thank you to those who've reviewed, followed, and favorited this story! I'll try to get the next chapter up soon!


	35. Hanging On

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead, or anything else that Robert Kirkman has created. I'm just having fun with his characters and whatnot. **

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and eventual smut.

* * *

_"I've found you find strength in your moments of weakness."_

_—Rascall Flatts_

* * *

Hanging On

The chickens clucked quietly while Thao moved around them happily, fascinated with the small feathered creatures. Jenna leaned her left side against the coop, watching him follow around one of the speckled hens that didn't seem to mind his presence, and couldn't contain the small smile on her face. As soon as she'd returned to the farm from the highway, Thao had grabbed her hand and led her to the chicken coop he'd discovered with Dusty while she was gone. She was tired, still feeling the effects of her drained blood supply, and she'd been looking forward to plopping down at the fire pit with a book when she got back, but she didn't mind, really. It was just good to see Thao playing and enjoying himself freely—the way a child ought to.

This farm was something special. Sure, it wasn't _immune_ to the dangers of the state of the world, but it was remarkably cut off from it all. Enough that it was even possible to relax and enjoy the little things, forgetting for the moment what lied in wait just beyond the fields.

Jenna honestly couldn't recall a time in which she'd felt so at ease. Even the CDC was a little too confined for comfort. The Greenes' property was mercifully peaceful. Fresh air, scenery, wide open space, food and water… This place had it all.

A few of the chickens clucked loudly and scurried out of the way of Thao's rushing feet, and Jenna stifled an amused smirk.

"Thao, don't chase them," she said, successfully keeping her expression and tone neutral so that he'd take her seriously. "You're scaring them, buddy. That's not nice."

"Alright," he conceded with a little sigh, settling down again. "They think I'm scary?" he questioned, puzzled.

"Well, you're a lot bigger than they are," she explained. "If you step on them, it'll hurt them a lot."

"Oh," he said, deliberating over that for a moment. "I won't hurt them, though," he reasoned.

"I know, but they don't know that," she said. "For all they know, you might try and eat them."

"Ew!"

Jenna laughed at the widened set of his eyes. She decided not to break it to him that any chicken nuggets he'd ever eaten were made of the feathery little animals he was so entertained with. Instead, she just leaned back against the side of the coop and watched him play, kneeling down among a group of fuzzy-looking chicks, letting them peck lightly at his hands.

She turned her head slightly at the sound of approaching footsteps, the limping yet measured gait telling her who it was before they rounded the corner of the coop.

She smirked slightly at him. "Heard you coming this time."

He snorted as he came to stand with her. "I'll getcha again, don't worry," he promised amusedly, and then turned his eyes over to Thao. "Looks like he's havin a good time, huh?"

"I can only imagine how hard it's gonna be to get him away from the stables eventually," she replied wryly.

Shane chuckled a bit. "Good luck with that, girl."

"Thanks," said Jenna, rolling her eyes slightly, and trying not to pay attention to how good he smelled. Honestly, what the hell was up with her lately when it came to him? Even before their mutual confession the previous night she'd caught herself looking at him a little too often. What was she—a fucking teenager? And they both had much more important matters to deal with, in any case. She needed to stay focused on _that_—not the all too inviting scent that assaulted her senses whenever he came near.

"Dusty an' T-Dog got dinner ready," he informed her, explaining his presence. "Everyone's favorite," he added sarcastically.

"Beans," she deduced.

"What else?" he muttered.

She smirked again, turning her eyes back to Thao, just several yards away from them. "I'm good for right now. I'm gonna let him play a little while longer. It's something he never really got the chance to do since all this started, you know?"

"Yeah, that's what I figured," said Shane. "Came prepared—here."

He handed her a peach, and she quirked an inquiring brow at him as she rubbed the fruit on her sleeve before taking a bite.

"Doc keeps sayin ya gotta eat," he explained. "Else you're liable to pass out. An' it ain't gonna be easy if I end up havin to carry you back to camp, unless the little man's willin to help," he joked, nodding in Thao's direction.

Jenna sniggered and swallowed a bite of the fruit. "Could just ask Dusty to drag me back by my feet—I'm sure she'd have fun with that." She looked down at his right ankle, noting that he was trying not to put too much weight on it while he stood leaned with his back against the side of the coop next to her. "How're you holding up, anyway?" she asked, nodding at his ankle.

He looked down at it and shrugged slightly. "Alright. 'S not too bad, to tell ya the truth. Probably be jus' fine tomorrow."

She took another bite of the peach, wondering how honest that was, but decided to keep her doubts to herself. He was a tough man—he didn't need her concern over petty things.

"How ya been…since last night?" he asked after a moment, his tone more subdued.

For once, Jenna's first inclination wasn't to lie and deflect. At this point, what did she have left to hide from Shane, anyway? She didn't need to cover anything up when it came to him anymore, and that was more of a relief than she ever would've imagined.

"I'm…alright," she answered after a moment, looking up at him. "Really," she said in response to his doubtful expression, "I think I'm alright. You know, for the most part."

He nodded then, contemplating her words. "Good…I'm glad," he said quietly.

She hesitated, and then asked. "How about you?"

His gaze moved downward to the ground in front of him. "Not too bad," he answered, still just as quiet. "That memorial was…'s somethin else, though. Wasn't prepared for it, I guess…"

She didn't have to ask to know that the sound of Patricia's weeping was still echoing in his head, either replacing or combining with the sound of Otis's screaming. Either way, it was a lose/lose situation for him in that sense. Everything was still pretty fresh for him.

"Wasn't really expectin Rick's eulogy, either," he added after a pause, more of an edge to his tone that time.

She studied his face, seeing the cold resentment and burning anger etched in his features, and realized that there was still something she'd been keeping from him, inadvertently at least. Watching Thao for a moment to be sure that he was good and distracted, she decided to reveal her last hidden card.

"I know this doesn't help very much, but…just keep in mind that Russell had it coming," she said quietly. He just nodded, glaring down at the ground silently, and she forced herself to continue. "And…and you're not the only one who saw him for what he was."

He finally looked up at her then, frowning in puzzlement.

She swallowed, trying to untighten her throat, and pressed on. "The truth is, if you hadn't killed him last night…I might have."

Shane was absolutely bewildered. "What're you sayin…did he do somethin, or…?"

She shook her head. "Not exactly, but…Daryl and I saw the way he was looking at Dusty, just before the rest of us started heading back to the highway. We both saw it, and we both knew he wasn't as harmless as he seemed. I was just gonna watch and wait…wait for him to make a wrong move."

He seemed to be starting to understand. "Y'all thought he'd try an' hurt her," he assumed, and she nodded. "What made you so sure?"

She picked uselessly at her short fingernails—a nervous habit—and found that she couldn't make eye-contact. This was harder than she'd thought it would be. "He reminded me of someone." Knowing she'd have to elaborate, she added, "The man in Colorado."

"You were worried he'd try an' kill her?" he asked, more puzzled now.

She fought against the tightness in her throat again before answering. "Maybe not kill her, but…there are worse things a man could do to a person—a woman—than kill her…"

She shifted her eyes up to his furtively, unable to keep her gaze there for longer than a second or two. But that was long enough for her to see her words sink in quickly, and for the shock and horror to mar his features. She felt suddenly very exposed, and she resisted the urge to wrap her arms around herself for coverage.

"Are you…did…?" Shane rasped, sounding like he'd just received a swift kick to the stomach.

She shook her head and put up a hand slightly to stop him before he could complete the question. "He didn't…he didn't get that far," she assured him. "I fought him off. I just saw the same thing in Russell that I saw in him, and I didn't want Dusty to have to go through that."

"Jenna…"

She shook her head again, not wanting to hear his pity, and not wanting to talk about this anymore. "Look, all I'm saying is, if you didn't do it, then I probably would've at some point. You know what he did, you know what he was really capable of, so you don't need to beat yourself up so much over killing him." She shifted her weight uncomfortably, picking at her fingernails again as she looked anywhere but at the man next to her. "I would've killed him for less…for just a bad feeling…"

"You woulda done it to keep someone safe," Shane contradicted. "That ain't less. That's more 'n enough, an' you know it."

She just raked a hand through her unkempt hair, looking off to the side unseeingly. Because she _didn't_ know that. Shane seemed to know what she was thinking, because he continued, his voice low enough not to carry far, but still intent.

"How 'bout this—I'll stop beatin myself up for it if you do the same," he suggested. "You had a damn good reason for it. Every time, you had a damn good reason for it—girl, you _know_ that. Don't pretend you don't. You did what you had to do to survive. Hell, if you really think about it, if you didn't…you never woulda made it to your boy. An' you can only assume what woulda happened to him then."

Jenna's eyes moved over to Thao, who was still playing happily, and found that she couldn't disagree with Shane. When he put it that way, it made a lot of sense, really. Jenna had little doubt that Thao would've died if she hadn't stumbled upon him. Eventually, he would've run out of food and water, or someone more dangerous than her would've found their way to him.

So, looking at it from this new perspective, did she really regret all she'd done? No…not if it was what led her to Thao. Not if it was what kept him alive.

"Ya gotta forgive yourself eventually, Jenna," said Shane gently, bringing her back to the present. "And if you can't forgive yourself, then how in the hell do ya expect me to forgive myself?"

She looked up at him then, not looking away that time. He was right. If she couldn't forgive herself for her past, then how could she expect Shane to do the same? That wasn't fair of her. They had to meet each other halfway, or else this wouldn't work.

"You good?" Shane asked after a moment, his expression both wary and hopeful.

She hesitated, and then nodded slightly. "Yeah…I'm good. You're right," she admitted, and leaned back against the coop again. "I think we're gonna be alright…somehow," she said, remembering his words from the night before, and truly agreeing with them now.

He looked back at her, and she could see the ghost of a smile on his face—reaching his eyes that time—and she almost smiled back.

A startled yelp had them both snapping their heads around in time to see Thao darting away from an angered hen, his little legs moving as fast as they possibly could. Jenna couldn't help it and burst into laughter as her boy ran and hid behind her legs while the hen gave up and went to rejoin the rest of the flock.

"I told you not to chase them, didn't I?" she chided, still laughing as he clung to her jeans.

"I'm sorry, mama," he said, his voice muffled as his face was pressed into the side of her leg in embarrassment.

Jenna did her best to get her amusement under control as she rubbed his shoulders soothingly. "Come on, buddy, I think the chickens have had enough of us for one day. Let's get some dinner. Are you hungry?"

He nodded, and grabbed her hand as they walked away from the coop. "Can we see the horses tomorrow?" he asked hopefully.

"We'll see," she said, tossing the pit of her finished peach off to the side, where it disappeared in the grass.

"You don't wanna try chasin _them_ around, bud," Shane advised, sounding just as amused as Jenna was. "You know what horses do when they get mad?"

Thao shook his head, looking up at the tall man curiously. "What?"

"They kick ya," Shane informed him. "An' they kick ya _hard_."

Thao's eyes widened at that new information, and Jenna contained a smirk as they approached camp, the smell of beans wafting in the air uninvitingly. Ever since the outbreak hit, she'd grown very tired of two food items—beans, and peanut butter. But, it was something to eat, so she could hardly complain. She'd rather have beans and peanut butter for the rest of her life than starve to death.

They settled down around the fire pit with the others, and Jenna felt like the perpetual weight on her shoulders had been lessened considerably. It was still there, but it wasn't threatening to crush her anymore. And that was a relief beyond comparison.

* * *

**Note:**

Sorry if things are a little too mellow for you in these last few chapters. We'll be getting back into action next chapter, I promise. As ever, a huge thanks to those who've reviewed, favorited, and followed this story! Two of you asked some questions that I'd like to clear up for you, so, here goes...

**Endless Questions- **In this story, Shane was never with Lori, and he's not obsessed with her or anything. Sorry for not being more clear about that from the beginning. I'll have to make sure to be more clear in the future, so thanks for pointing that out.

**Grace- **Ed died at the quarry in the beginning, like he did in the show. You may have this story mixed up with another. Are you reading the story **Lil' Bird: The Beginning, **or its sequel **Wherever the Road Might Lead**? I know that's what happens in that series.

If anyone else has a question or is confused about something, feel free to PM me or leave your question in a review. I'll do my best to answer without revealing anything vital. :)


	36. Just A Child

**Disclaimer: I am not the owner of The Walking Dead, no matter how awesome that would be for me. No copyright intended.**

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and eventual smut.

* * *

_"Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away."_

_—Philip K. Dick_

* * *

Just A Child

Jenna looked up from where she sat in the grass, leaning against the log they'd moved there as a bench seat in the camp center, to see Lori exit the Grimes' tent, still seeming to be shaking off the clutches of sleep. It was close to noon, and she was the last to wake, which was a bit unusual for her, but Jenna assumed she must've needed it, with all the stress she was under with Carl. She returned her attention to sewing the button back on Glenn's shirt, tying off the knot. He'd noticed the button was hanging off by a thread early that morning, and she'd offered to repair it. Her grandmother had taught her how many years ago.

"Mornin, guys," greeted Rick as he walked through camp, county map in hand and Shane and Daryl following after him. "Let's get goin, we got a lotta ground to cover."

Shane met Jenna's eyes and inclined his head, beckoning her to follow. She nodded and pocketed the remaining thread and needle before handing over Glenn's shirt to him on her way. Once again, they gathered around the hood of the Cherokee, spreading out the terrain map.

"Gon' need this," said Daryl, handing Jenna her machete she'd left at the side of her tent as he came to stand beside her.

She nodded her thanks and secured the blade to her belt as Andrea and T-Dog approached along with Jimmy.

"Alright, everyone's gettin new search grids today," Rick told them.

"I'd like to help," said Jimmy, hands in the pockets of his jeans. At Rick's inquiring expression, he explained, "I know the area pretty well, an' stuff…"

"Hershel's okay with this?" Rick asked.

Jimmy nodded immediately. "Yeah, he said I should ask you."

"Alright then," Rick conceded. "Thanks." He leaned over the map, studying it closely, and then placed his finger to the north edge of the map. "What's up that way—up the creek bed?" he asked the boy.

"Housing development," the boy replied. "Went in maybe…ten years ago."

Rick looked over at Shane at his right. "I'll search this grid here with Glenn," he said, pointing at the map, "T and Andrea, this grid's yours. Shane, you think you could head up that way, check out the housing development?" Shane nodded in agreement. "Take back-up," Rick advised. "We don't know what's out there."

Shane nodded again, and then looked up at Jenna from across the hood of the car. "You in?"

"Mhm," she agreed, nodding.

"You feel well enough?" Rick asked, concern in his tone.

Again, Jenna nodded. She felt much better than she had yesterday, and as long as she ate something before heading out, she knew she'd be just fine. Her body had recovered, thankfully. Now she could actually be useful.

"I'ma head up this branch of the creek right here," said Daryl, pointing. "If she followed the creek, she mighta gone that way, an' we missed that branch before."

"Good idea," said T-Dog, a hint of sarcasm in his tone that Jenna didn't understand. "Maybe you'll see your chupacabra out there too," he quipped, accepting the Glock from Dale, who'd just arrived with the gun bag.

Jenna frowned, completely puzzled, and looked up at Daryl quizzically.

"Chupacabra?" Rick asked, a definite note of amusement in his voice as he leveled his gaze at Daryl as well.

"What, you never heard this?" Dale asked, passing Jenna her Beretta and two filled magazines. "The first night at camp, Daryl tells everyone that the whole thing reminds him of a time when he went squirrel hunting and he saw a _chupacabra_."

Jimmy chortled, which was a very unwise decision, in Jenna's opinion.

"What'cha brayin at, jackass?" Daryl asked the boy, leveling his gaze directly at him—no trace of a smile to be found on his face.

Jenna bit her lip to keep herself from smirking too noticeably, ducking her head as she loaded a magazine into her gun and stowed the other into the pocket of her jeans. She tucked the Beretta into the back of her belt and leaned forward against the car, hoping Jimmy had enough sense in his head not to poke the bear. The smirk on his face gave Jenna the suspicion that her hope was in vain, however.

"So, you believe in a blood-suckin dog?" the gangly teen asked, still amused.

Daryl shrugged. "You believe dead people walkin around?"

That seemed to shut the kid up, and Dale proceeded with passing out firearms to the others—save for Andrea, who looked thoroughly pissed off about this fact.

"Hey, hey," said Rick, taking the rifle from Jimmy's grasping hand. "You ever fire one before?"

"Well, if I'm goin out, I want one," the boy defended.

Daryl spat a short breath of laughter, slinging his Horton over his shoulder. "An' people in hell want slurpies," he said sardonically.

Jenna couldn't help it and chuckled lightly through her nose, and caught Daryl's smirk as he clapped her on the shoulder before heading off for his own search mission. She hoped he didn't get hurt out there on his own.

Shane recovered from his own amusement faster than she did, and looked over at Jimmy with a neutral expression. "Tell ya what," he said to the kid, "when we set up for gun practice, you should come along. Might be worth your while."

The kid nodded, mollified, and headed off in the direction of the house, presumably to get ready to leave.

"For now he can come with us," said Andrea, shooting Jenna a scathing look, to which she merely responded with the raise of an eyebrow.

If she wanted to start something, she'd have to try a little harder than that. The dislike that Jenna had only guessed at before had grown much more obvious since yesterday. Perhaps Jenna's little lecture really pissed the older woman off. She couldn't imagine another reason Andrea would be shooting dirty looks in her direction so often, but decided to ignore them. If she had a problem, then she could confront Jenna directly.

"He's yours to babysit, then," Shane muttered, grabbing his own Glock and two magazines.

Jenna clapped Dale on the shoulder lightly in thanks as she moved away from the Cherokee, heading to the picnic table and grabbing a peach on the way, making quick work of it. She grabbed her leather jacket from her tent as well, just in case.

"I'll keep an eye on Thao for you, while you're gone," said Carol, intercepting her before she reached the table.

Jenna blinked, stunned slightly. "Are you sure?" she asked. "I mean, I was gonna ask Dusty. You really don't have to, Carol."

The woman gave her a kind, gentle smile. "It's the least I can do, while you're out there lookin for my little girl."

Jenna nodded, smiling slightly. "Thank you," she said sincerely.

"No trouble," said Carol, before heading over to help Lori with hanging laundry on the clothesline near the RV.

Jenna made her way to the picnic table then, taking a seat beside Thao, leaning her back against the side of the table and peering down at the pages of his comic book, recognizing the place in the storyline immediately.

"What's Fone Bone doing?" she asked him, though she knew the answer already.

"He's playing with the possum kids in the snow so Miss Possum can go to get some food," he said informatively. "She doesn't think he really saw the red dragon."

"Oh yeah?" she said. "Well, we know better, don't we?" He nodded, and she smirked, ruffling his hair. "Hey, buddy, listen for a minute, okay?" He turned his attention to her immediately, turning to face her. "Shane and I are gonna go out for a while to look for Sophia. Carol's gonna be keeping an eye on you while I'm gone. So you be good and do as she says, alright? Stay where she can see you, always."

He nodded. "I promise," he assured her. "When will you come back?"

"I'm not sure," she said honestly. "But we won't be gone for too long. And we will come back—I promise."

"I know," he said, and wrapped his arms around her. "You always come back, mama."

She smiled slightly and held him tightly for a moment, kissing his hair, before releasing him. "Read up," she urged, nodding at the comic book. "When we get back, you can tell me all about what happens with Fone Bone."

He smiled back, seeming to like that idea, and nodded. Shane approached the table then, and Jenna knew it must've been time for them to head out.

"Don't worry, bud," he said to Thao. "I'll bring your mama back safe."

Thao nodded. "Good," he said simply, and returned to his comic.

Jenna bit down on her lip again, stifling her laugh, and stood up as Shane ruffled the boy's hair, a look of amusement on his own face, before they headed off toward the Hyundai as Carol went to sit with Thao.

"He told you," said Jenna when they were out of earshot.

Shane laughed lightly. "Yeah, I know. Now I'm actually kinda worried."

She laughed then and slid into the passenger seat while he took the driver's seat, and pulled her jacket on as he turned the car around quickly, heading away from the house. She rolled down the window and let her arm hang out lazily, feeling the dry, hot air move through her fingers.

"What's with the jacket?" he asked. "It's gotta be eighty degrees today."

She shrugged. "Housing developments mean people," she explained. "Places were people used to live tend to mean a large amount of walkers."

"So the jacket...?" he asked, both amused and puzzled.

She smirked slightly, and moved her hair away from her left shoulder, turning her arm so he could see the bite mark on the shoulder of the jacket; evidence of a very, very close call. His eyes widened as the realization set in, and he looked up at her in absolute bewilderment.

"You were bit?" he asked.

She nodded, looking down at the mark. "Didn't go through the leather," she said—obviously. "Left one hell of a bruise, though," she muttered, leaning back into her seat again, looking out the window. She glanced over at him, seeing him shake his head slightly as he gazed at the road ahead of them. "Wondering how in the hell I could be dumb enough to let one get so close?" she asked wryly.

He let out a mirthless breath of laughter and shook his head. "Naw, jus'…wonderin if there's anythin you _haven't_ had to go through yet," he admitted.

She considered that, trying not to remember. The fact that someone knew the dark, gory details of her recent past was still a tad unsettling to her, whether she trusted Shane or not.

"Not really," she answered in a quiet, flat tone, looking back out the window.

It was silent for a while between them as the car cruised along the old road, the farmland eventually giving way to thickly condensed trees bordering either side. Occasionally, Shane would glance down and study the map that rested on his lap, turning it slightly to get a better view. The fourth time he'd done this, Jenna had to smirk.

"I could take the map, you know," she said, amusement evident in her tone. "I may not have a Y-chromosome, but I promise not to get us lost."

He rolled his eyes and handed the map to her, struggling not to smirk, she could tell.

* * *

Jenna loaded a round in the chamber of her gun as the Hyundai rolled to a slow stop in the entrance of a cul-de-sac. This had no doubt been a nice place to live, once upon a time. Now there were a handful of abandoned cars littering the area along with the various other forms of debris. The lawns were overgrown, and everything was so still and quiet, it was almost eerie.

Despite how calm everything seemed, Jenna kept her guard up as she exited the car and closed the door quietly behind her. There was no telling what they'd encounter out here.

Shane brought the binoculars up to his eyes, scoping out the area for a moment before jerking his head to the left, motioning for her to follow him. She nodded and moved around the car to catch up with him, taking note of his gait as he moved beside her. His ankle seemed to have mostly healed, for he only walked with a very slight limp. She just hoped they didn't end up having to run or climb—it wouldn't do well to push his luck.

"We're gonna have to go house to house," he said in a low voice, his eyes scanning around as they walked. "Start at the far end, work our way back."

Jenna nodded in agreement as she too looked around, on her guard. The place was vacant—on the outside, anyway. They could only guess at what they'd find behind closed doors. She didn't want to admit it, but she highly doubted that Sophia had managed to make it all the way here. Still, it couldn't hurt to take a look around, right?

It didn't take long, however, for Jenna to realize that they were just wasting time following a false lead. As they searched through houses, finding abandoned belongings, remnants of suicide, piles of walker bodies, and just about anything and everything in between, they found absolutely no sign of Sophia. There was no reason to believe she'd ever even been in the cul-de-sac in the first place.

But, there were only a couple houses left to search, and they were already there. So they might as well complete the job.

Shane used his good leg to kick the door in, and Jenna followed him into the house, both of them with their guns raised. Broken glass crunched under their feet as they moved forward, and Jenna looked around, taking it all in. Furniture had been piled up in front of the stairs, presumably to prevent anything from being able to venture up to the second story.

She nodded at the stairway, and Shane nodded back before pulling the furniture out of the way and climbing the stairs cautiously, gun held out and at the ready. Jenna moved after him, keeping her gaze upward so nothing would be able to attack her from above; she couldn't shake the image of a walker lunging over the banister at them. It was a possibility, after all.

Shane looked up and down the hallway when they'd reached the landing, and silently gestured for her to take one end while he checked out the other. She gave him a brief nod, and they both made their way down the hallway, going in opposite directions.

Always listening for anything from Shane's end, Jenna carefully opened the door of the first room she came to, finding nothing but a small bathroom with shampoo bottles, soap bars, and other toiletries scattered all over the white tile floor. The next room she came to seemed to be a guest room, which was also vacant, as was the walk-in closet. She hesitated a moment when she came to the last door, which had the name Emily painted on the white surface in pastel pink letters. She really didn't want to, but she had to check.

Inside, she found nothing but what a little girl's room ought to contain; a pink bed set with various plushy stuffed animals and dolls scattered around the place, with dress-up jewelry and a purple feather boa hanging from the mirror at the left.

Jenna sighed slightly and closed the door again as she stepped back out into the hallway. She didn't want to think about what might've become of _that_ little girl too.

She looked up at Shane, who had apparently completed his search as well, and shook her head, telling him she'd found nothing. He returned the gesture, and then led the way back downstairs to the main floor, both of them still silent and on hi-alert. She really didn't like how dead quiet the place was; every footstep sounded too loud to her, every breath, every shift of her weight. It had been a while since she'd been out scouting like this. She'd grown accustomed to the group setting, and the freedom of the farm. Things had taken a one-eighty, and now she felt off-balance out on her own like this.

Well, not completely alone. She was glad it was Shane she was with. Someone who was trained, able to make quick decisions, and more than capable of defending themselves. She couldn't imagine being out here with someone like Andrea, or Lori, or Carol. With trigger-happy Andrea, fretful Carol, and irrationally panic-prone Lori, Jenna could only assume they would've been walker bait out here.

Stepping into the kitchen, Jenna frowned at what she saw. Drywall had been put up in what had obviously been another doorway at the end of the kitchen, and a ragged hole near the floor told her these efforts had been in vain. It looked like some large animal had chewed its way through, but the smeared bloody hand prints around the edges of the hole told a different story.

"They walled off the hallway…" Jenna said under her breath, bemused, as she ran her hand over the new wall, testing its durability. It wasn't very sturdy.

"Tried to make a stand here," Shane explained, leaning down to get a glimpse through the opening.

Jenna watched closely while he maneuvered his way through, bits of drywall crumbling around him, and when he gave the all-clear from the other side, she followed after him. The hallway led to one door at the end, and after opening the door carefully, they found themselves met with another set of stairs, this time leading to what looked like a garage. Shane kicked away the stacked up furniture that blocked the end of the stairway, and Jenna put her forearm over her nose to block out the smell she was suddenly assaulted by.

The garage was filled with a large pile of burned bodies. She didn't count how many there were, and she avoided looking at them with any detail—she didn't want to know if one of them was a child. Instead, she looked over at the garage door, seeing that it was partially opened, and she wondered briefly if someone had made an escape from the house when things went south.

One thing was very clear; Sophia had never been here. Jenna pulled her fingers though her hair, letting out a frustrated sigh. She really wasn't looking forward to returning to the farm and confronting Carol with empty hands.

The sound of shuffling footsteps and raspy snarling made them both snap their heads up to look at the garage door again. Shane lowered down to peer through the opening quickly, and he was standing straight and pulling Jenna backward in the next instant.

"C'mon, girl, we gotta go," he said intently as they rushed back to the stairway.

They rushed through the house, no longer cautious or taking care to stay quiet. Speeding out through the front door, they both skidded to a halt when they saw the swarm of walkers heading in their direction. _Fuck!_ Where the hell had they come from?

"I'll cover that street," said Shane calmly, nodding at the bunch of walkers directly ahead of them.

"I'll clear the car," Jenna said, finishing for him.

She moved toward the car and shot down the first two that were closest, and then tucked her Beretta into her belt. There was only a handful left around the car, and they were decently spaced apart. This was more of a job for a machete.

She released her trusted blade and approached the car, weaving around the vehicle to give her some time to keep the other two away from her while she dealt with the first one she came to. It was put down easily, and the sound of gunfire from Shane's Glock told her that he was still doing just fine—so she didn't chance a look back in his direction to check on him, though she felt strangely compelled to.

_He's fine, focus,_ she commanded herself as she moved around the back of the car. The two walkers stumbled into each other as they turned to follow her movements, nearly knocking each other off their feet in the process. She took down the one closest to her and strode backward quickly to avoid the grasping hands of the next.

"Jenna, what the hell you doin?" Shane demanded from where he stood, still clearing the rest of the street.

She took down the walker when it made to grab her again, and yanked the machete from its skull. "Don't worry about me, worry about _you_!" she yelled back, pointing her machete at the handful of walkers that were making their slow progression toward his turned back, still a safe distance away.

Turning around at the sound of more snarling, she moved toward another walker that was approaching and made quick work of it.

"C'mon—let's go!" Shane ordered as he sped over to the car, having cleared most of the street.

Not about to argue, Jenna yanked the door open and slipped into the passenger seat as Shane planted himself in the driver's seat. Not waiting a moment longer, he threw the car in drive and swung it back around, speeding away from the cul-de-sac before the remaining walkers could surround the Hyundai.

She looked back through the window and watched the stumbling figures shrink in the distance as they drove away, and sighed heavily, resting her head back against the seat. All of that effort, and still, no sign of Sophia.

"You _must_ have some kinda death wish or somethin, girl," said Shane, his breathing a bit labored. "The hell did you think you were doin back there?"

"Not wasting bullets," Jenna replied flatly, settling her bloodied machete down on the floor at her feet. "_That's_ what I was doing."

"You gotta be kiddin me—"

"I wasn't exaggerating yesterday when I told Andrea I've killed more of them with that than I have with any gun I've used," she said, indicating the blade between her feet. "I can handle myself just fine, Shane. Don't risk a bullet unless you have to—that's the way I do things. And that's not being stubborn, that's being smart. There's a reason I didn't die between here and Washington."

He glared at her for a moment, wanting to argue further, but apparently not finding anything to say. She glared back at him, waiting to see if he did come up with anything. She knew how to take care of herself, and she didn't need a lecture from him.

"You scared the hell outta me," he said eventually, his tone more subdued as he stared out the windshield. It sounded like a confession, but she could've been wrong.

She leaned back in her seat, trying to relax and forget about the day's ordeals. "Yeah, well…consider it payback. For scaring the hell outta me at the CDC."

She shifted her eyes over to him to see him giving her a sardonic glare, but she could also see the smirk he was trying to cover up. Satisfied, she settled back into her seat and closed her eyes while they cruised down the empty road.

"You ever gonna stop bein a smartass?" he asked after a minute or two.

"Don't count on it," she muttered, and was glad when she heard him chuckle under his breath. At least he wasn't angry anymore. "Ever gonna stop being a hothead?" she countered.

He snorted slightly, and she didn't have to look to guess that he was rolling his eyes. "Don't count on it."

She laughed quietly, and moved her head around slowly, cracking her neck. With that loosened up, she leaned back into the seat again, trying to get comfortable. It hadn't been a very close call at all, but she still felt a bit on edge. Perhaps it was just the knowledge that they still had no idea where Sophia was, despite their best efforts.

"I'm really not lookin forward to tellin Carol all we found was another dead-end," Shane muttered in a defeated voice, apparently thinking along the same lines.

"Maybe Daryl had more luck than we did," she replied, forcing herself to remain hopeful.

He sighed heavily, and her eyes opened then as she turned her head to give him a quizzical expression. At her inquiring gaze, he shifted in his seat a little uncomfortably, and she narrowed her eyes, even more puzzled.

"Look…I…I'm gonna be perfectly honest with ya, Jenna," he began in that same defeated voice. "I owe ya that." He paused, and then seemed to force himself to continue. "I wish people would stop doin that—bein hopeful, I mean. _If_ we find Sophia…chances are—"

"What, you think we should give up?" she asked, stunned. "Just cut our losses and move on?"

He shook his head. "Naw, that's not what I'm sayin, girl," he said quickly. "I think we need to know, one way or another. All I'm sayin is you can't get your hopes up like that. No one should be gettin their hopes up, Carol least of all. Sophia…she's been out there missin for four days now. I hate to say it, I really do, but chances are, if we find her…it's gonna be too late. I think ya know that."

He held her gaze for a long moment, and she was unable to argue with him there—and he knew that. Because reality was not on that little girl's side anymore, and they couldn't just ignore reality. Sophia was just a child. They couldn't expect her to hold out forever.

"All I'm sayin is, you need to get yourself ready for that," Shane continued, his voice a little quieter then. "If you don't, it'll kill ya."

Jenna let out a long breath, pulling her hand through her wild hair again. "I know," she said in a small voice, staring out the passenger window. "I just don't wanna admit that, because then I feel like…like I'm just giving up. Turning my back on that little girl, you know?"

"Yeah…yeah, I know," said Shane. "Nothin 'bout livin in this word's easy anymore, girl."

"No, it isn't," she agreed.

* * *

**Note: **

For some reason, writing this chapter was an uphill battle for me, so I'm sorry if it's not that great. But, I'm just glad that I got it done finally. As ever, thanks so much for reviewing, following, and favoriting this story! It seriously means so much to me!

PS: I now have a few character photos uploaded on my profile page for this story, if you're interested.


	37. A Light In the Dark

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead, I swear on my life. This is for entertainment purposes only. **

**Warning: **Rated M for language, gore, and eventual smut.

* * *

_"Hope is faith holding out its hand in the dark."_

_—George Iles_

* * *

A Light In the Dark 

_SPOV_

It was obvious that Jenna was damn near exhausted after the day's events. Every time Shane glanced over at her while he cruised down the old back road, she remained the same; eyes closed, head resting on her arm against the frame of the window. If he didn't know better, he would've guessed she'd fallen asleep. But one thing he'd learned about Jenna was that she very rarely let herself sleep, even when she probably should have.

It was bizarre how much they suddenly trusted each other. She knew the absolutely worst thing about him, and still, that didn't make him feel threatened—because he knew she wouldn't use that knowledge against him. She'd asked him to trust her, and he did, and in return he'd also gained her trust. And after everything she'd told him about all she'd been through, that was definitely saying something.

He was just glad that the one person he could really trust also trusted him. It certainly made things…easier. In all honesty, if she hadn't reached out to him when she did, he wasn't sure how sane he would be now. He doubted whether he could ever repay that debt, but he'd be damned if he didn't try.

His eyes moved over in her direction again when she shifted in her seat; struggling to get comfortable, he guessed. Still, her eyes remained closed, so he wasn't caught that time either.

Admittedly, he'd been catching himself looking in her direction a little more often than what was necessary for a few days now. He'd lied to her before at the nursing home when he'd told her he didn't remember a lot about the night in the rec. room of the CDC. The truth was, he remembered everything about that night, and he couldn't understand why. For whatever reason, the details of that night were vivid and clear, like a movie in his head. He remembered it all, from the words she'd used, to the sound of her voice, her laugh, the way those words in Russian had sounded so natural and fluid when she'd spoken, the way her partially damp hair hung almost to her waist…

Yeah, he remembered a lot from that night. Too much, really. Hell, he'd even found himself flirting with her a few times after that, without even thinking about it. Thankfully, she didn't seem to notice it, and he'd gotten away with it each time.

It was a problem. Back before the world went to shit, it wouldn't have been. Sure, maybe she would've been a bit on the young side, but that wouldn't have stopped him. "Big flirty slut" is what Lori had teasingly called him as long as he'd known her, and he'd never been able to argue with her. And he wasn't particularly ashamed of it either, to be honest. He liked women and he'd never settled down, so hooking up was just something he'd grown accustomed to since his wild teenage years. If he'd met Jenna a few months ago, when the world was still normal, he wouldn't have thought twice about hooking up with her, either. Hell, he would've put forth a good deal of effort to make it happen, actually, because there was just something about that little woman that drew him in.

But the world wasn't the way it used to be months ago, and things weren't that simple. Everything was complicated, and everyone had their own issues to struggle with. Everyone had their own demons to contend, and that was especially true for Jenna and himself. They had bigger things to worry about, and getting his rocks off wasn't exactly high on his list of priorities at the moment. And he seriously doubted it was high on Jenna's.

Yes, he was attracted to her, but he wouldn't let it distract him. He wouldn't let it get in the way of the important things, and he for damn sure wouldn't let it screw up their friendship. Because he'd never needed a friend more than he did now, and he thought that might be true for her as well. So he wasn't about to screw that up.

Her eyes opened as soon as he pulled the Hyundai to a stop in the gravel driveway, confirming what he already knew; she'd been awake the whole trip back. He followed her gaze to see Carol exiting the RV, looking at the car with undisguised hope in her face. Jenna met his gaze then, and they both sighed, knowing they would have to break the woman's heart again today, and reluctantly climbed out of the car.

Thao rushed up to Jenna immediately, running past Carol to throw his small arms around Jenna's waist and cling to her, glad to see her return. And even though she was exhausted, Jenna hoisted the boy up into her arms and hugged him to her for a moment before settling him on her hip like a toddler.

"Told ya I'd bring 'er back safe, didn't I, bud?" Shane asked the boy, smirking.

Thao nodded happily, and Shane chuckled a bit, holding his fist out and bumping it with the child's much smaller one.

"Anything?" Carol asked in a feeble voice as she approached with Dale.

Jenna just shook her head as she looked back at the older woman, remorse in her bright eyes, and Shane answered so she wouldn't have to.

"Not today," he told Carol regretfully, patting her on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, Carol."

The pain in Carol's expression seemed to compel Jenna to make some sort of promise. "We'll cover more ground tomorrow," she assured Carol. It was really the only promise any of them could make.

Shane glanced over at Dale, and was surprised to find the old man staring at Jenna with an intensity he didn't quite understand.

"What happened out there?" he asked her, and it sounded almost accusatory.

"Place was overrun," Shane answered, drawing the old man's attention, and meeting his gaze for a long moment before Carol spoke again.

"Let's go getcha cleaned up," she said to Jenna, leading her away in the direction of the Greenes' house.

Jenna didn't put up a fuss, and let the woman lead her while she set Thao down on his feet. He grabbed hold of her hand and walked beside her, intent on staying glued to his mama's side for a good long while. Shane watched her go for a moment, glad that she'd be able to rest for the time being, and then strode off in the direction of his tent, wondering if Rick and the others had returned from their search in the woods yet.

"Shane?" Dale called after him, walking quickly to catch up with him.

"Hm?" he replied, wondering what he wanted, and if he had something to say about Jenna. What the hell had he been staring her down like that for?

"I was thinkin, you've got that nice new ride of yours," he began as Shane stopped and turned to face him, "and plenty of fuel. Enough for you to get far from here."

_What the fuck?_ "You askin me to leave, Dale?" Shane asked, both bewildered and honestly a little amused. That was certainly not what he'd been expecting from the old man, and he had to admit that Dale had some balls for striding right up to him like that, stopping just a couple feet away when he had to look up just to glare at Shane.

"Yeah, I think that'd be best for everyone," said Dale threateningly.

"You think the group would be better off without me?" Shane demanded, no longer amused by the old man. Who the hell did he think he was? "Why don't ya tell that to Rick an' Lori—their boy would be dead if I hadn't put my ass on the line."

"And Russell and Otis's," Dale shot back.

Shane felt like he'd just been punched in the gut, but he made sure to keep his expression and demeanor calm. Even so, he was not about to have this conversation. He turned and began to walk away, hoping the old man would leave him the hell alone. But Dale followed after him, refusing to let up, and Shane knew he wouldn't be able to get out of this conversation, no matter how much he wanted to.

"You've been vague about what happened," Dale persisted as Shane came to a stop again, not turning around to face him that time.

He worked to keep his voice neutral. "Otis died a hero. Russell didn't make it."

"So you've said," Dale pressed, obviously not impressed with that explanation.

For God's sake, what did the old man want—details? How could anyone expect someone to give a detailed account of what it was like to watch two men get torn to pieces by rotting corpses? That was just…cruel.

"A little boy's life was saved because of what went down that night," Shane said through his teeth, struggling to reign in his temper. "I think you outta show some gratitude."

"I wasn't there," said Dale.

"Naw, man, you weren't," said Shane coldly, glaring down at the old man contemptuously.

"But I have been here, payin attention," he went on. "I've seen the way you've been watchin Jenna. You barely let her outta your sight. She's young, she's got a little boy who depends on her, and she doesn't need someone like you breathin down her neck."

Shane just stared back at him, completely dumbfounded and lost for words that time.

"I know what kind of man you are," Dale said then, giving Shane an undisguised look of combined revulsion and loathing. "And if you don't leave that girl alone, I'll see to it that she knows too."

Fighting the urge to scoff and tell the old man that she already knew, Shane just left him with a cold glower before striding off in the direction of the water pump by the house. He needed to cool his head before he did something he'd regret later. But Dale's words echoed around in his mind, and he knew he hadn't heard the end of this.

* * *

_JPOV_

It was getting progressively closer to dusk, and still, Daryl hadn't returned from his search yet. Everyone else had made it back to the farm just fine, but they'd yet to see any sign of the experienced hunter, and Jenna would've been lying if she said she wasn't a bit worried. But, she just focused on Thao, who was nestled comfortably in her lap while they sat in the grass in the camp site. She was helping him read one of his comics, and she was actually impressed at how well he was able to read on his own for being so young. Hmm. She would have to see about teaching him basic math skills, and how to write sometime soon. Now that they didn't seem to be about to get up and leave again, it seemed like a good time to slow down and focus on other important things. She hadn't been able to do that with him before, and she didn't want to hold him back developmentally.

Dusty sat behind her, combing her hair through, and Jenna wondered vaguely when she'd last combed her own hair. The Greenes were letting them use their facilities while they stayed, and Jenna was eternally grateful for that; it was a blessing to be able to get clean regularly.

"Good Lord, you got some long hair," Dusty commented, holding up a handful and pulling it as far away from Jenna's head as she could without pulling too hard, examining the length, Jenna assumed.

"Runs in the family," Jenna said with a small smirk.

Every woman in her family had her hair grown out long, refusing to cut it short. It was practically tradition. Back in the good old days, Babushka made sure of two things: that her children and grandchildren were fluent in Russian, and that the girls took very good care of their hair. Because "it'll be gray and thin before you know it," as she always reminded them. Jenna recalled how devastated her grandmother had been when her cousin, Christina, dyed her hair from golden blonde to black and blue—and she had to stifle a rueful laugh. Poor Babushka nearly had a heart attack when she first saw it.

Jenna looked up from the pages of Thao's comic book in time to catch Andrea give them a sneering look before turning her gaze back to the fields in the distance. She had the binoculars in her lap where she sat back in the foldout chair, keeping watch. Jenna thought the binoculars would make better use with Dale up on the RV, but chose not to comment.

As far as she was concerned, it was best for everyone if she and Andrea just stayed out of each other's way.

She looked around, scanning her eyes over the area. T-Dog was busying himself with preparing a quick dinner for everyone over the fire pit—Jenna couldn't deny that the man did know how to come up with a decent meal with limited supplies better even than most of the women. Carol was in the RV, cleaning it up from the sound of it; trying to keep herself distracted. Rick and Lori were inside sitting up with Carl, who had been in and out of consciousness all day. Glenn was reading one of Jenna's books near the fire pit, taking a break for the first time she'd seen since they arrived at the farm. Shane was still in his tent, resting, Jenna assumed.

He'd been in a bad mood since they got back from their search of the housing development, for some reason Jenna couldn't name. She wondered if he was alright, but resisted the urge to ask him. He didn't need her to smother him with concern; if he wanted to talk about it, he'd talk about it. She just wished she knew what was bothering him, because then she might've been able to help him somehow.

But maybe she didn't need to worry about him so much. He was a grown man, for fuck's sake. He could take care of himself. Sure, she could help him deal with the aftermath of what happened with Russell and Otis, but that was it. He didn't need her for anything else.

"Oh my God…" Dale muttered from atop the RV.

Jenna peered up in his direction questioningly to see him straining to gaze off in the distance—binoculars would've been helpful, no doubt.

"What is it?" Glenn asked, standing up quickly and trying to follow the old man's gaze.

Dale pointed toward the fields ahead of them. "Daryl's back," was all he said, but the stunned tone of his voice told Jenna that wasn't the whole story.

Andrea got to her feet and peered through the binoculars, and then gasped sharply.

By that time, everyone was on their feet and looking toward the tree line where Dale had indicated, and Jenna tried to see what had them both startled. Was Daryl hurt? Did he need help? Why the hell weren't they _saying_ anything?

"What's goin on?" Shane asked, stepping out of his tent.

His tone was a bit more commanding than Glenn's, which might've explained why he got a better answer than the younger man had.

"Daryl, he's back," Andrea repeated, "and it looks like he's carrying someone…"

"Someone?" Dusty asked intently, growing anxious. "What d'ya mean, _someone_?"

"Sophia…" Dale murmured, bewildered, as he continued to stare at Daryl's small form in the distance.

Carol rushed out of the RV at that moment, clearly having heard at least the last part of that conversation. She looked around at everyone, hope emanating from her in almost palpable waves. Jenna really hoped Dale wasn't wrong. She didn't know how much more disappointment that woman could take at this point.

"Sophia?" she asked, hesitantly at first. And then, stronger, "Daryl found Sophia?"

"I dunno," Shane told her honestly, trying to keep her calm. "Jus' stay here a minute an' let me find out, alright? Someone go an' get Rick." He paused and looked around at them quickly, his eyes landing on the machete secured to Jenna's belt. "Jenna, you're with me. C'mon."

She nodded and led Thao over to Glenn quickly while Dusty rushed off to go and get Rick. "You stay right here with Glenn. I'll be right back," she instructed the boy.

Before he could answer, she and Shane were rushing off to the field, armed with a machete and an ax. They didn't speak, but just ran, getting closer and closer to Daryl as they went. And Jenna could now see that Daryl was indeed carrying the small form of a child—it had to be Sophia. But was the little girl alright? Was it too late for her after all?

"She alright?" Shane panted as soon as they were within speaking distance of Daryl.

Jenna skidded to a halt at Shane's left as they came upon the hunter, and stared wide-eyed at the skinny, obviously malnourished child in his arms. It was Sophia. The fact that she was clutching the little rag doll in her thin arms gave Jenna hope—it at least told her the girl was alive, anyway.

"She's alright," Daryl confirmed, his voice giving away how fatigued he was. Jenna wondered how long he'd been carrying her through the woods. "Jus' dehydrated, an' hasn't eaten anythin' for a long while."

"C'mon," Shane urged quickly. "Let's get 'er inside so Hershel can look at 'er."

The three of them rushed back across the field as quickly as they could, met halfway by Rick. As soon as they reached the yard, the rest of the group was upon them, all of them wanting to see for themselves that it was really Sophia. And all of them firing out questions at rapid-fire speed.

"Is she okay?"

"Where'd you find her?"

"Was she bit?"

"What happened?"

"She's fine!" Daryl snapped at them, clearly aggravated. "Get the hell outta the way so I can get 'er inside!"

That certainly worked like a charm, as everyone stepped back to give the man some room to move, save for Carol, who was not about to leave her daughter's side for an instant. Tears poured from the woman's eyes as she walked right along at Daryl's left side, staring fixedly at her little girl. Jenna watched from the yard as they were met by Hershel and Patricia at the front door, and led into the house.

"Think she's gonna be okay?" Dusty asked Jenna in an undertone at her right when the screen door closed behind Daryl's retreating back.

Jenna nodded. "Yeah…yeah, I think she's gonna be okay."

It wasn't a lie by any means. Daryl had said that Sophia was fine—just very underfed and dehydrated, but those were things that a child could easily recover from. And Daryl didn't make a habit of sugar-coating things, so she trusted his assessment.

A small smile fixed itself to Jenna's face as the reality of the situation finally sank in. Sophia was alive. After four days alone in the woods, the little girl was _alive_. She'd made it.

Jenna looked over at Shane, who stood a few feet away at her left, and grinned up at him, unable to help herself.

"You were wrong," she said quietly, still grinning like a fool.

He smiled back after a moment, and nodded. "Yeah, sure was," he admitted easily. "Glad for that," he added, looking back at the house.

Jenna looked back at the house too, running her fingers through Thao's sleek hair fondly. She felt like she was floating. After all that had happened in the last couple of days, after all the bloodshed and travesty…this one miracle occurred, shining a light on everything that had been casting shadows upon them all.

Things were finally starting to get better for them. Maybe this was their turning point. Their path to better things.

With all that had happened today, Jenna allowed herself that bit of hope, dangerous as it was.

* * *

**Note: **

Sorry for the wait, but I hope this compensates! I didn't exactly read this over for mistakes because I wanted to get it posted tonight, so I apologize for any spelling and/or grammatical errors. Thanks to those who've reviewed, followed, and favorited this story! You guys make me smile.

Also, I'd like some input from you guys. I'm debating whether or not to split this story into two by the end of the second season. What do you guys think? Make a sequel for season three, or keep it all together as one?


	38. Respite

**Disclaimer: The Walking Dead is not mine, it's Robert Kirkman's, and AMC's. No copyright intended, I swear.**

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and eventual smut.

* * *

_"Relief is a great feeling. It's the emotional and physical reward we receive from our bodies upon alleviation of pain, pressure and struggle. A time to bask in the lack of the negative. And yet, think about it—relief is really the status quo, a negation of the suffering, a nothing in itself. It is the way things were before the pressure and struggle began. So, is it a step back? A regression? Or is it an opportunity to regroup, start over, and move in a different direction? Use your moment of relief well."_

_―Vera Nazarian_

* * *

Respite

_JPOV_

Finding Sophia alive and well turned out to be the miracle the group needed. Everyone's spirits had lifted significantly, and with good reason; Hershel had been able to determine quickly that Sophia would be just fine once she had some fluids in her and had time to rest and recover. Her survival gave them hope—if a little girl could make it out in those woods without any means to protect herself, then surely the rest of them could make it right there on the Greene farm.

Sophia's return even seemed to give Carl's recovery process a significant shove forward. He now spent most of his time conscious and alert rather than weak and only partially conscious. Hearing that his only friend was going to be just fine certainly had the boy looking forward to his recovery more than ever.

Jenna was relieved that something had gone _right_ for once. Instead of another setback, or another loss, they'd received a blessing. A bit of mercy from the cruel world. For now, at least, they could take a moment to get their bearings and—most significantly—enjoy their days.

She spent just about every minute of her time with Thao, now that there was nothing else pulling her in a different direction. No one needed her for anything else, and she could finally focus all of her attention on her boy—the way it used to be.

But living on the Greene farm allowed her to bond with Thao in a way she'd never been able to out on the road. Their lives had revolved completely on survival, so that left little room for relaxation and joy. Now, she could let her guard down and actually play with the boy, the way a parent should. She could teach him things that didn't have anything to do with staying alive out on the road, like how to make a grass whistle or a paper plane, how to do a cartwheel, the finer art of playing Go Fish… And now that she wasn't merely keeping him fed and sheltered, she felt like she might've actually begun to earn the moniker "mama."

Jenna had often feared Thao would never be able to have a childhood again, and she was supremely grateful to be proven wrong.

She also noticed a bit of a change in some of the others, Rick most significantly. He was relieved from the stress of staying focused on the search-and-rescue mission for Sophia, and that seemed to do him a lot of good. He still acted as the group's unofficial leader, but now he didn't have to assign searching partners or direct search grids—he didn't have to give direct orders anymore. But he remained adamant about the group earning their keep on the farm, which Jenna could understand wholeheartedly. Hershel and his family had done a lot for the group—more than could be repaid, in Jenna's opinion. Truthfully, she felt that they were more of a hindrance than a help to the Greene family sometimes.

Carol seemed to have broken out of her shell after Sophia's safe return. Gone was the timid woman living in her husband's shadow. She really had taken on a bit of a maternal role to the group as a whole. She made sure they always had clean clothes, she kept the RV and the campsite clean and organized, she made meals of the game Daryl brought back and the handouts from Maggie. She never had a complaint, and she was always there with parenting advice when Jenna needed it.

She supposed she could have asked Lori too, but after seeing that the woman spent most of her time trying to track down her own kid or asking the others to keep an eye on him back at the quarry, Jenna decided Carol was the best source of advice on mothering.

All in all, it was good to see Carol opening up and allowing herself to be happy. She was such a warm person, with a surprisingly wicked sense of humor. She had Jenna and Dusty cracking up all the time now.

The group had also taken more of a shine to Daryl after he'd brought Sophia back safely. Carol continued to show her gratitude, and Jenna figured that would never stop. The others also seemed to appreciate him a little more, and it was about damn time, too. That man did more for them than anyone else, and just because he preferred to keep to himself, it was often taken for granted. He still had a knack for keeping everyone at a distance, but he'd even begun cracking jokes with them occasionally, and playing poker with Glenn, Dusty, and T-Dog almost every evening after dinner.

_If only Merle could see him now,_ Jenna would always think when she watched them. She always wondered how Merle would react to seeing his little brother pal around with a black man, a half black woman, and a Korean man all in one sitting.

Dusty's spirits seemed to have been permanently raised after Sophia's safe return, and it wasn't hard to guess why; Dusty was very fond of the young girl, and had been since Jenna first arrived at the quarry. She spent almost as much time at Sophia's bedside as Carol had during her recovery, and when the child was well enough to join the others at the camp site, she could always be found either with her mother or Dusty, doing girly things Jenna had never had an interest in when she was that age.

She was glad Thao was a boy; she knew how to keep him entertained, at least. If it was a little girl she'd found in Colorado, she wasn't sure what she'd be doing now to keep the child happy. Thao liked what most five-year-old boys liked; rough-housing, getting his clothes dirty, and racing his cars.

Thao seemed to have really grown on Dusty as well, for she spent a good deal of time playing with him too. Wrestling and Hot Wheels she could handle, but when it came to playing in the dirt, she usually opted out.

The only person who puzzled Jenna at first was Shane. For whatever reason, the day Sophia was rescued turned out to be the same day that he apparently decided he either didn't want or need any help from Jenna anymore. For a couple weeks after that, it was like her first days at the quarry all over again; they only spoke when chance permitted it, and they didn't seek each other out for conversation. Shane didn't talk with her more than he did with Glenn, or Carol, or Dusty.

At first, his strange turn in behavior left her feeling almost stung, and she chalked it up to the aftereffects of being caught off guard. She'd promised to help him, not to get so…involved, or invested in him. So, she snapped herself out of it, and moved on. She'd managed just fine without someone else's shoulder to lean on, and she'd do it again. She didn't need anyone.

But, she couldn't deny that it had been nice to have Shane there for moral support. He could understand her demons, more than anyone else, anyway, and that was invaluable. Perhaps she shouldn't have taken it for granted though. Maybe he'd decided he didn't need her help after all, and he could keep himself together on his own.

Well, as long as he wasn't going to take off and isolate himself, Jenna determined that was good enough for her.

And then, one day, it was like he'd done a one-eighty, because he was talking to her again—more than idle chitchat. She really didn't know what initiated it—again—but she wasn't complaining. It was good to have a friend in him again.

And she would make sure to keep things from escalating any higher than that between them. Yes, he was attractive, in an unconventional sort of way. His ears were a little big, and his nose, while not misaligned, had obviously been broken once or twice. But she loved his dark curls, and had to keep herself from staring at his maple eyes more often than she would've liked. The man was obviously confident and sure of himself, and he just exuded masculinity in a way she'd never quite seen before. He was intriguing, and attractive in his own right. And Jenna had the impression that he'd been very popular with the ladies before the world started ending.

Yes, Shane was attractive. Yes, she was attracted to him. But, she couldn't let her guard down _that_ far. Letting him know her past was one thing. And she had to admit, it was just great to have someone to talk to without barriers. She didn't have to carefully monitor the words she let out when she and Shane talked, and it was a relief.

And in doing so, she'd understood the reason for his previous behavior.

They'd been collecting water from the pump on the side of the Greene house since their supply for camp was running a little low. Thao was being kept busy with the old crayons Beth had dug up somewhere in the house for him, the sweet girl, and Sophia was teaching him how to draw animals at the picnic table under the shade. As it turned out, Sophia had the makings of a great older sister in her. Much more so than Jenna had at that age.

"You talk to Dale a lot, huh?" Shane had said while he pumped water into one of their containers. It sounded more like an observation than a question, but she answered anyway.

"Yeah, I guess. We both like books, and I think I saved his sanity by grabbing some books from the CDC before it blew to hell," she said wryly.

He'd smirked slightly and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I noticed. Ya spend half your spare time with your nose in one of them books."

She'd narrowed her eyes, trying not to show that she was amused. "Do you have a point, or are you just mocking me because I read voluntarily? Because if you don't like books, then I don't know how much I like you," she joked, failing at the end to keep a straight face.

He'd just snorted a bit while she stood with her hands on her hips, feigning insult. "Naw," he admitted amusedly. "Not much of a reader."

"I don't think we can be friends, then," she said, replacing the filled container with an empty one before Shane began pumping more water.

He'd laughed a bit, but that time it was more…weightless. There was no genuine mirth. He got like that sometimes, and she never had to ask what was bothering him. She could only assume that he'd been snared by some memory of the FEMA shelter. Some forgotten detail flashing across his mind, vivid and clear, bringing the rest of that night trailing along after it.

"I think Dale has the same idea," Shane said after a moment, and Jenna had frowned then. That was definitely not what she'd been expecting to hear.

"What do you mean?" she'd asked when he didn't continue.

"He, uh…he don't much like me hangin around you, I guess," he admitted, still pumping the water. "Thinks I'm a bad influence, or somethin," he added wryly, rolling his eyes, though Jenna could see that Dale's words were having more of an effect on him than he wanted to let on.

"Why would he think that?" she'd asked carefully, having a bad feeling of where exactly this was going.

Shane didn't seem to want to answer at first, but eventually, he spoke again. "He said he don't believe my story," he began, and Jenna closed her eyes as the worst was confirmed. "I get the feeling he thinks I killed Russell _and_ Otis."

And then Jenna began to think she'd screwed up royally. She was the one who'd suggested that Shane stick with the cover story he'd told Rick the first night. If people were starting to suspect that Shane had killed Otis, then it would be hard to convince them with the truth at this point. It would just be taken as another cover up. And really, what reason would anyone have to believe them?

"Maybe you should tell Rick what really happened," Jenna suggested after getting her thoughts together, and staving off the panic. "Not the others, because they'd lose their shit. But just Rick."

Shane had let go of the pump and sat down at the base of the covered well, running his hand over his face. "Naw," he disagreed. "Rick, he ain't…he ain't the kinda man who'd jus' be okay with what I did. He's the good guy. Always has been. An' he wants to believe Russell died for his son, so I say let him. He ain't gonna wanna hear that Russell used Otis as bait."

Jenna cringed slightly at the cold timbre of Shane's voice, but took a seat on the well next to him anyway. She could understand his anger. Rick praising the man that had murdered Otis and changed Shane's life in the worst way couldn't have been sitting well with him.

"If you think that's best," she'd acquiesced, though she didn't necessarily agree with that decision. But, Shane did know Rick better than she ever could, so perhaps he was making the right call. "You could've told me, you know," she added after a moment, meeting his eyes.

He'd looked back at her for a moment, seeming to deliberate over something, before he spoke again. "I'm tellin you now," he said with a shrug. But she didn't have to say anything for him to know that was a very weak defense, and he continued after a moment, when he'd run his hand over his hair and face at least once. "I figured…it'd be best if Dale didn't see me hangin around you too much. Never know when he's gonna start runnin his mouth to the next person who walks by him."

She'd nodded, understanding at once. Dale had threatened him. She couldn't quite explain the defensive anger that was unfurling within her. All she knew was that she really didn't appreciate Dale threatening Shane that way, without even knowing what had really happened that night.

"Don't worry about him," she'd decided then, and he'd looked over at her in slight surprise. "I'm a big girl—he doesn't need to keep an eye on me. And I told you I'd help you, Shane. Those weren't just words. I meant what I said."

He'd studied her for a long moment, apparently measuring the validity of her words, before a little half smirk adorned his face. "I know. So did I."

She'd smiled back slightly then. "I know."

Whatever confused, tangled thoughts about Shane her mind had been pestering her with, Jenna was just glad to have her friend back. It was good to have someone to lean on—someone who really understood her—and she had to admit, it felt good to do the same for him. Maybe she was still just feeling the optimistic aftereffects of Sophia's miraculous return, but Jenna thought that things were really starting to turn around for all of them there at the Greene farm.

* * *

_SPOV _

Shane hadn't been lying when he'd told Jenna he was glad to be proven wrong. He'd been dreading the possibility of finding that little girl in the worst way, if they found her at all. He never thought he'd see the day when he was so thankful to be wrong.

Everyone's spirits seemed to have lifted with Sophia's return, which made things a hell of a lot easier for Rick. That much was starkly obvious. Shane knew from experience that when Rick had people counting on him, he gave everything he had for them, no matter the cost to himself. It was a trait that Shane had always admired in his best friend, and if he was being honest with himself, he'd envied it a bit too.

At first, Shane was glad to pass the torch to Rick when he'd arrived at the quarry. Leading all those people had been a task for a much more fitting man than himself, and he knew that if anyone could handle it, rick could. But when he'd seen the effects the role of leader was having on Rick, he began to regret it. He'd just passed along all of that responsibility to his friend without another thought, never stopping once to consider how much of a toll it might take on Rick.

He was glad Rick had been given a good deal of mercy from his duties as leader when Sophia was rescued by Daryl. Now, Rick was able to spend all the time with his son that he needed to. He didn't have any other obligations pulling him in a different direction, as was a common occurrence, even before the world went to shit.

Shane was also beyond thankful that Carl's recovery was going so well. He visited him at least once a day—he avoided stepping into the Greene house, not wanting to run into Patricia if he could help it—and from the looks of things, the boy was doing just fine, all things considering. After Sophia had recovered from her days in the woods, she started spending her time in Carl's room, keeping him company along with his mother or father. Usually, they played Checkers or Go Fish. Sometimes Carl would tell Sophia about one of the more serious bike crashes he'd experienced, or some injury he'd gotten while playing baseball—trying to impress the girl, Shane knew.

Yeah, he was going to be just fine.

The was one dark spot in all of the light, however; for Shane, anyway. Ever since Dale had confronted him with his accusation—not totally unfounded, either—Shane had begun to worry that if the old man suspected him, perhaps some of the others did too. How long would it be before Hershel and his family grew suspicious? Shane really didn't want to be the reason the rest of them were kicked off the property. They loved it there. Jenna in particular looked at the farm like it was the best place she'd ever encountered, and when Shane saw her running around the yard, letting Thao chase her for a while before she eventually let him catch her and wrestle her to the ground, it wasn't hard to see why. This was a safe place for her boy. This was a home.

He wanted to talk to her. It felt strange, wrong even, not talking to her. But with Dale keeping him in his sights, he didn't want to do anything to provoke the old man. He didn't want to start anything that would send them packing.

Initially, he'd done his best to just stay away from her, but he had to be subtle about it. He didn't look in her direction any more than he did anyone else, he didn't make conversation with her more than he would with Glenn or Dusty, and if the group was sitting around the fire pit at night, he always made sure that there were a few people in between them. He never ignored her outright, because that would be too obvious.

Even so, it sometimes felt like he was ignoring her, for whatever reason, and it bothered him. If she was offended by it, she didn't show it—and he had the impression that she _wouldn't_ show it if she was. Offending her wasn't his intention, and he was sure that she would've figured that out, but still, it left him feeling far from stellar.

He really had grown to loathe that old man for forcing him into this. Jenna had promised that she'd help him through this, but with him not-quite-ignoring her, that was damn near impossible for her to do. And she was right; he wasn't able to just sweep his memories of the FEMA shelter under the rug. There were mornings when he'd wake up and the sound of Otis's screaming was the first thing he heard. There were nights when all he could think about was pulling the trigger that ended Russell's life, and whether that bastard had deserved it or not, it left Shane feeling cold in a way he'd never felt before. An unnatural, internal cold that filled up his entire being. A smothering, suffocating chill that he couldn't escape.

And then he realized…Jenna was going through the same thing he was, three times over. He'd promised her that he'd be there for her in return. While he hadn't exactly said those words that night, it was implied when he'd told her they were going to be alright. So this not-quite-ignoring her business was over—Dale could do what he wanted. She'd promised to help him when she had no reason to, and he wasn't going to take that for granted.

The only problem was, he wasn't sure how to start talking to her again the way he had before. It would seem pretty damn strange if he just strolled up to her and struck up conversation now, wouldn't it?

It was actually pretty frustrating. Shane hadn't been the type to feel uncertain about talking to a woman since his younger teenage years—and he'd gotten over _those_ years quickly. He wasn't sure what was wrong with him, but it sure was pissing him off. Just walk up and start talking—how hard could that be?

As it would turn out, pretty damn hard.

He just didn't know what the hell to say to Jenna that didn't sound like he was asking for forgiveness, because that wasn't what he was doing. Every time he planned to go up and speak to her, somehow all of the words in his head became apologetic. _Look, I know I ain't been there like I said… Hey, I know we haven't talked lately, but… Jus' had to figure out a few things, but I'm good now…_

It was fucking ridiculous. All he had to do was walk up and start talking, so why the hell was he overthinking it? Was it because he knew Dale would probably be watching him like a hawk the whole time from his lookout spot on top of the RV? What the hell did that matter? He and Jenna were friends, in a way, and if he wanted to talk to her, there was no reason he shouldn't.

Finally, the opportunity presented itself a couple weeks after the day Sophia was brought back. It wasn't until later that Shane realized why it had worked so seamlessly; it wasn't orchestrated. It hadn't been planned out. It was just a genuine interaction, and that one simple interaction just about eradicated all the distance he'd been putting between them for the past two weeks. Like it'd never even been there in the first place.

Hershel's farm gave them a lot of freedom they hadn't experienced for months. Freedom they'd had back when the world was still normal. That also went for the kids, who were now free to just be kids. That being the case, it gave Thao the opportunity to act his age—five. The boy was so conditioned to follow Jenna's orders for the sake of survival, Shane had almost forgotten that five-year-olds were prone to misbehavior.

It was around noon, the sun baking down on them like the devil's furnace was overheating, and Dusty asked Jenna if she'd borrowed her utility knife. The last place she'd seen it was in her bag, in their tent. Jenna hadn't taken it, and she knew that the only person who'd been in the tent besides her and Dusty was Thao.

"Hey, bud, come here a second," she'd said as she approached him where he sat in the dirt, racing his cars.

He'd gotten to his feet and came to a stop just a few feet in front of Jenna, looking up at her curiously. "What is it?" he'd asked, running his hand just under his nose in a manner very similar Jenna's. He'd apparently picked up that little quirk from her.

"Do you have Dusty's knife, buddy?" she'd asked, lowering down on her haunches to be at eye-level with the small child.

Thao shook his head, but didn't voice an answer.

Jenna had him turn out his pockets, only to find them empty. But it was obvious that the boy was hiding something, because he'd grown very fidgety and he was a little too quiet while she asked him again if he'd taken the knife.

"Alright. Stay here and play with your cars," she'd said, rising to stand again.

She'd looked over her shoulder on her way toward the front porch of the house, where Thao had been playing earlier, just in time to see her boy sneak around to the other side of the RV, where he must've figured he was well hidden from Jenna's vantage point. Out of sight out of mind, right? Shane had found himself smirking ruefully. _No such luck, kiddo. _

Sure enough, Jenna had excavated the utility knife in the grass next to the porch steps, where it would've probably gone unnoticed for quite a while if someone hadn't been looking for it specifically. She'd folded the knife closed and tossed it to Dusty on her way to the RV, where she located Thao sitting quietly in the grass, trying to play with his cars as nonchalantly as he could. But it was clear that he knew he was in trouble. Kids were rarely good at hiding those things at that age. Shane could recall a time, years ago, when Carl had drawn on the living room wall with permanent marker and tried to hide it by shoving the heavy recliner in front of it. When Rick and Lori had noticed the awkwardly positioned chair and the drawings it concealed, it hadn't taken very long for Carl to fess up.

"I found Dusty's knife," Jenna had told Thao, crouching down to be at level with him again. "Do you know where?" Thao just shook his head. "Are you sure? Because I think you do, buddy." Again, he just shook his head, but voiced no answer. "Thao, I want you to tell me. Did you take that knife without asking?"

He shook his head, looking back at her with big eyes. "No," he said a little too innocently.

"Are you sure?" Jenna asked, her voice still patient.

He nodded vigorously. "Yeah, I'm really sure."

"Really?" she'd asked. "You're not lying to me, are you?"

He shook his head slowly. "No."

Jenna didn't say anything further, but just raised her brows expectantly and kept her eyes on the boy's, waiting. About thirty seconds later, Thao had ducked his head in defeat and mumbled, "Yes, I took it," in a small voice.

Jenna nodded. "That's what I thought. Go sit at the table," she instructed, pointing to the picnic table to her right.

"For how long?" Thao wondered, sounding like she'd just given him a life-sentence.

To her credit, she didn't cave at the distraught lilt in her boy's voice, but kept her face straight when she answered. "Until I say so. Now go," she said, nodding her head toward the table. "Don't move from that spot, understand?"

Thao nodded glumly and trudged off to the picnic table, where he sat down and held his head up on his fists, already looking extremely bored. Jenna kept her gaze on him for a long moment and then straightened up to stand, running a hand through her wild hair. Shane had gotten the impression that was the first time she'd ever had to be the disciplinarian for her boy. He was just impressed that she hadn't given in to his puppy dog eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Dusty," she'd said to her friend as she headed over toward the fire pit, where Dusty and Carol were preparing lunch for everyone. "I'll keep a better eye on him—"

"Hey, don't even worry 'bout it, Jen," said Dusty with the easy wave of her hand. "He's five. This shit happens, ya know? No harm no foul."

"Thanks," breathed Jenna in obvious relief. "Now I'm just wondering how long to have him sit there…" she'd mused, looking over at the picnic table, where Thao was slouching unhappily in his seat, kicking his feet back and forth across the dirt beneath the table.

"Ten minutes should be good enough," Carol offered informatively, pouring water into the pot over the fire Dusty had going.

Jenna nodded appreciatively. "Alright, thanks."

And, without even thinking about it, without having to plan any dialogue to approach with, Shane had gotten up to join Jenna while she made her way over to the Cherokee. Whenever she got stressed out, she tended to head over to work on one of the cars, tuning up the engine with their minimal supplies. He'd gathered that it was a bit of a stress reliever of hers.

"How the hell'd you do that?" he'd asked without any preamble as he joined her at the front of the Cherokee.

Her eyes had met his, puzzlement flashing across them for a moment as she lifted the hood. "Do what?" was her simple response.

"Get Thao to fess up like that," he explained. "You didn't even have to lecture 'im."

She'd just let out a little breath of laughter while she connected a socket to the ratchet to get started. "Just had to maintain eye-contact and wait," she answered, leaning forward to work on the engine.

He'd quirked a brow. "You kiddin me?"

She'd laughed again at his disbelieving tone. "No, not kidding. My grandma used to do the same thing to me when I was his age. Figured I'd give it a try."

And just like that, they'd picked up where they'd left off, conversing easily and joking like they'd known each other for years. And for the first time in a long time, Shane wasn't aware of Dale's eyes following him, though in hindsight, he knew they must've been locked right on him then. In all honesty, he couldn't have cared less at that point. It was good to be able to talk with Jenna again, even if they weren't talking about anything remotely serious or important.

After helping her tune up the engine of the Cherokee for approximately ten minutes, Jenna had gone off to relieve Thao of his timeout.

"Alright, come over here, bud," she'd said to her boy, wiping the oil from her hands on an old rag and tucking it into her back pocket.

Thao got up from the table and skulked over to Jenna obediently, his head ducked slightly. "I'm sorry, mama…" he mumbled in a very small, very apologetic voice. Shane could tell that it took a bit of effort for Jenna to keep her face straight and not be affected by her boy's dejection.

"What're you sorry for?" she'd asked, successfully keeping her demeanor calm and authoritative.

"Because I took Dusty's knife, and for lying when you asked me if I took it," he'd answered in that same small voice.

"You know that was wrong, don't you, bud?" she'd asked sincerely, and Thao had nodded glumly. "I don't want you lying anymore, understand?"

"Yes, mama," he'd answered.

"And you ask before you touch other people's things—that's not polite," she chided gently.

"Okay."

"Promise?"

"I promise…" There was a short pause, before he seemed to gather up his courage to speak again. "Mama?"

"Yeah, buddy?" Jenna replied curiously, lowering down to his level.

"You still love me, right? You still wanna be my mom?" Thao asked in a hopeful tone that must've broken Jenna's heart at least a little bit.

Shane knew that had to have been true, because her eyes had widened slightly, and she looked for a moment like she'd just been punched in the gut. But she recovered quickly and held Thao's face in both of her small hands gently.

"Of _course_ I do, sweetheart," she assured him sincerely. "Of course I still love you. Come here." She'd pulled him into her arms and hugged him tightly while he hugged her back with equal force, and kissed his head gently. "Do you still love me, buddy?" she'd asked.

Thao had nodded immediately. "Yeah, I love you, mama."

Jenna had smiled a bit, and Shane knew then that she'd been honestly a little worried about that prospect. "Oh good. Thank you, buddy, I'm glad. Now come on—let's go find Dusty so you can tell her you're sorry, alright?" she suggested, leaning back to look him in the eye once more.

He'd nodded and smiled, glad to be forgiven. "Yeah."

Shane had watched them walk off together, and decided to stay put there at the camp site, seeing that the two of them could probably use some time to themselves while they made up to each other. He was just glad that the barrier he'd put up between them was gone now, because while neither of them needed the other, it was a hell of a lot easier on both of them if they were a united front, so to speak. Because if he was plagued with memories in his sleep and in his waking hours, he knew that she probably was too. They both shared the same burden, and now they didn't have to carry it on their own.

* * *

**Note:**

I am _soooo_ very sorry for the most delayed update I think I've ever made. I was out of town for about three weeks, and I've had family visiting from out of state until today, so I've been busy with family weddings and whatnot. But, now I'm back to writing. Thank you for hanging in there, and thank you for the reviews, favorites, and follows. They are very much appreciated!

BC- In response to your question, yes, I am planning on delving into the months that were skipped in the show. I'm not sure how much, but I'm definitely going to.


	39. Keep the Peace

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead, nor do I intend any copyright. **

**Warning: **This is rated M for language, gore, and eventual smut. (Not terribly far away, I promise.)

* * *

_"Peace cannot be kept by force; it can only be achieved by understanding."_

_—Albert Einstein_

* * *

Keep the Peace

It had been a little over a week since Jenna and Shane had fallen back into their easy friendship, and still, Dale hadn't carried through with whatever threat he'd made. Things among the group remained peaceful, for the most part. Jenna did notice that Dale liked to keep an annoyingly close watch on Shane whenever he was near her, or Andrea, who hadn't given up on her determination to carry a gun, and frequently nagged Shane to teach her to shoot.

Which Jenna found to be a little odd, considering _none_ of them were currently allowed to carry a gun anymore. And she wondered why Andrea never asked Rick to teach her, seeing as he was still the primary authority figure. Perhaps she assumed Shane would be more likely to submit to her badgering.

So far, she'd had no such luck.

Jenna knew Dale suspected Shane of murder in one way or another, but he had yet to come and voice his concerns to her. If he was really so worried, wouldn't he have warned her by now? And it was clear that he hadn't said anything to Rick—they would've heard something of it by now if that was the case. Jenna might've thought Shane to have been mistaken, but the critical, untrusting expression on Dale's face whenever he looked at Shane told her otherwise.

Still, she maintained amiable conversation with the old man, though the fact that he seemed to be judging Shane so harshly was like a thorn in her side. She figured it would be better to remain on good terms with him rather than shut him out, the better to avoid provocation.

And, truthfully, Dale just reminded her so much of old Jonny Kendrick—better known to Danny and Jenna as Pops—she couldn't find it in herself to dislike the old man. Both of them being of similar ages, both of them having an affinity for quality hunting rifles, both of them being surprisingly well-read. Hell, sometimes, when Dale spoke about literature with Jenna, she could almost delude herself into believing it was Pops speaking. And she'd be transported back, a couple years in the past, to the old living room with the outdated furnishings and soot-stained fireplace, sitting on the worn out sofa with Danny, listening to his beloved grandfather regale them with stories.

She could remember those evenings so clearly, and yet, frustratingly enough, she couldn't for the life of her recall the location of that house. If she could just remember the name of the old country back road, she knew she could find it on a map, and she'd be good to go on her search.

However, no matter how long she studied every roadmap they had, no matter how closely she scanned over each road, no spark of recollection was ignited. And she feared that the road was so old and seldom used that it may not have been relevant enough to be printed on the maps of the area.

Shane would often ask her what she was looking for, to which she would only ever respond with a vague, "I'll know when I find it." She knew that he must've had an idea though, because he never questioned her further after that, when he normally would.

That was the thing about Shane. As much as they talked, and as easy as it was to converse with him, he really had a knack for knowing when not to talk. He knew that sometimes, it was best to just leave certain things unsaid.

It was around midafternoon when Jenna and Glenn had finally finished with chopping and stacking a new supply of firewood for the camp, and the sun hadn't let up all day. Needless to say, they were both sweating buckets as they each walked off in the direction of their own tents to change into dry, sweat-free clothes.

Normally, Jenna would've been helping Maggie and Patricia with the other daily farm chores, but she'd seen Glenn struggling with the task on his own.

She and Dusty both came to the same conclusion separately, it seemed, and that was that they wanted to make sure they earned their keep on the Greene farm. While they were using the family's water, and power, and often food, Jenna figured some sort of payment needed to be made. So, she and Dusty had asked Patricia if they could be of any use.

As it turned out, Patricia certainly thought so.

They helped the woman complete her daily tasks, and at first, that had consisted of a lot of learning for the city girl. She'd initially found herself shadowing Patricia while she fed the animals, collected eggs from the coop, tended to the garden crops…the list went on and on. Once she'd gotten the hang of it, she was free to go about her own tasks, no longer needing the guidance from the older woman, and Thao normally followed along after her, always eager to help.

Jenna pulled off her sweat-soaked t-shirt and changed into her spare one, not about to wear anything with long sleeves. She wiped her face with one of her clean shirts—her bandanna had already soaked up enough sweat for the day—and exited the tent in time for Dusty to almost run into her.

"Woops! Sorry, Jen," she apologized as they almost collided.

Jenna smirked slightly. "Don't worry about it. What's got you running for cover?" she asked, having taken note of Dusty's rushed movements as she tried to get into their tent.

Dusty rolled her eyes. "Carol jus' went an' told Lori she's the camp's 'Unofficial First Lady,'" she griped, making air quotes with her fingers. "Like _that_ ain't gonna go straight to her head. Jus' thought I'd hightail it outta there before she started pullin the First Lady Card an' givin out orders," she finished.

Jenna let out a huff of wry laughter as she stepped out of the way to let Dusty into the tent. She spotted Lori and Carol hanging laundry on the clothesline across camp, wondering what exactly had gotten into Lori lately. She had really grown increasingly pompous these past few weeks. Sometimes, it was like she was using Carl's injury as an excuse to nag the rest of them. She may as well have said, "My son got shot, so I have the right to criticize the way you contribute to camp." It really made Jenna want to roll her eyes most of the time. If she were a pettier person, she might've responded with something along the lines of, "I buried my family in the backyard I grew up in, so don't you dare tell me I don't do my fair share around here."

_Keep your mouth shut, and keep the peace,_ was her constant mantra these days. It was something her father had told her when she was a teenager, and Josh and Katie drove her up the wall. She was the oldest after Angela moved out, so she had to swallow her pride and maintain the peace among her siblings. It wasn't exactly the same thing here, but it worked alright. There was a reason she'd spent such little time around other women back when the world was still normal. When they were in a group, at least one of them tended to get bitchy sooner or later. And now, with five women in their group alone, all of them very different from each other, a bit of bitchiness among them was inevitable.

_Keep your mouth shut, and keep the peace,_ she reminded herself as she made her way over to the picnic table, where Thao was keeping himself very busy with his comics. He'd read both of them multiple times, but he never seemed to grow tired of the same stories.

"Mama, guess what?" Thao asked excitedly as she took a seat beside him.

"What?" she replied, grinning at his enthusiasm already.

"Glenn said he's gonna ask you if it's okay first, and then he's gonna teach me how to play cards with him and Dusty and T-Dog and Daryl," he told her, smiling widely at the possibility of learning a new game. "So are you gonna say yes when he asks you?"

"Hmm…" she hummed thoughtfully, deciding to draw it out a bit. "I dunno…how bad do you _really_ wanna play?"

"Really, really much!" he assured her immediately.

She had to laugh. "Alright, I guess I'll tell him it's okay, then."

He shot a fist up into the air triumphantly. "Yes!"

She snorted under her breath and moved her fingers through his black hair gently, smoothing it out of its messy disarray while he returned to reading. It was getting a little long, and she wondered if she should cut it soon. But, she kind of liked the way it looked on his round little face, and it didn't seem to bother him. The haircut could hold off a while longer, she supposed.

Thao bringing up playing poker reminded her that Daryl had gone off hunting a while ago, and she wondered how well he'd fared. They could only rely on handouts from Hershel's family so much, and Jenna was glad that Daryl never seemed to mind picking up the slack.

She let her thoughts wander, and smirked when she thought back to the previous evening, when Shane had complained that his hair was getting a little too long for his liking. She'd jokingly offered to cut it for him, while she had absolutely no intention of actually doing so. There was no way in hell she would be held responsible for screwing up his hair. The only hair she'd ever cut was her own, because she didn't care if the ends were uneven.

The startled expression on his face before he'd realized she was joking was priceless, though.

Her eyes scanned around the camp habitually, seeking him out, but not finding him anywhere. Then she realized he was probably still napping in his tent. He'd been drowsy all day, and for good reason, considering it had been his turn to keep watch the night before. It would be her turn tonight, before Glenn took over to give her a few hours of sleep.

"What's with the Annie Oakley routine?" Dale's voice called to Andrea, snagging Jenna's attention.

She looked in the direction of his voice to see him approaching the RV, peering up at Andrea who was standing as lookout, with Dale's rifle held lazily in her hands. It always made Jenna a little nervous when she swung a gun around like that, but as long as Thao wasn't anywhere near her line of fire, she decided to keep her thoughts to herself.

"I don't wanna wash clothes anymore, Dale, I wanna help keep the camp safe," replied Andrea in exasperation. "That alright with you?" she asked, a snide edge to her tone then.

_Keep the peace. _

Jenna did her best to tune the others out. While she sat on the bench seat with Thao, her mind wandered absently, and she eventually found herself thinking back to a conversation she'd had with Shane a couple of days ago—and almost laughed out loud.

She'd pointed out to him that he knew much more about her than she did about him—as inquisitive as he tended to be, that was hardly surprising—and he'd decided to entertain her with stories of his wild high school years to make up for that.

She'd certainly learned a lot about him that day. As it turned out, turning his principal's car into a chicken coop hadn't been the only memorable prank he'd played in those days. He'd managed to thoroughly ruin his English teacher's day by using wood glue to seal every drawer in the man's desk closed—it had been payback for assigning him detention for being late to class, and thus getting him kicked out of that week's football game. He also told her about the time he'd broken his arm in a football game, and while his mother had been just about crying over him at the hospital, he'd been more pissed off about missing out on the rest of the game than his broken bone.

But, he hadn't been able to complain about it for very long, because it turned out that his "war wound" was quite popular with the girls at school.

While she listened to him describe the ridiculous antics he'd dragged Rick into during their teenaged years, she laughed more than she had in a long time. She had the impression that Shane hadn't been the best influence on Rick back then, but just by listening to Shane's stories, she could tell that he had been the best friend Rick could've asked for. It wasn't so different from her friendship with Danny, actually—but neither of them ever had to drag the other into trouble; they were both willing participants.

And when he'd moved onto all the trouble he'd gotten himself into with girls, she'd laughed even more. Even though she hadn't known him for very long at all, hearing about his frequent sexcapades was far from awkward or uncomfortable. Hell, her best friend was a guy, and he'd also been her roommate for three years—she'd heard it all. And then she'd had Mackenzie to deal with over the years.

His broken nose was explained when he told her about a time when he'd made the bold mistake of flirting with a girl in his sophomore year, and gotten his ass kicked by her boyfriend, who was a senior. Apparently, Rick had jumped in to try and help, which only resulted in the _both_ of them getting their asses handed to them—but Jenna had to admire Rick for sticking his neck out like that. According to Shane, that was the first and last fight he'd ever lost, because he made damn sure he knew how to fight after that.

"Okay, now you're lying," she'd accused through a laugh when he'd told her about his trysts with the girls' volleyball coach in his senior year.

"I am not," he'd vowed, putting his hands up. "Swear to God, it happened—'bout four times, I think," he added, his voice breaking off into a laugh at the end. "Why're you so shocked, girl? I was eighteen, 's no big deal."

She'd just shaken her head, getting her own laughter under control. "No big deal?" she'd asked. "Where I grew up, teachers were _arrested_ for that kinda thing—and this is coming from a _cop_," she realized then, the laughter starting up fresh.

Shane had just nodded, biting his lip, looking amused but far from ashamed. She'd shaken her head at him again from where she sat up on the hood of the Cherokee under the sun, her hands pressed into the warm metal as she leaned back slightly.

"You were kind of a slut, weren't you?" she'd asked amusedly.

He'd snorted, rolling his eyes. "That's one way to put it," he'd replied.

She'd laughed lightly. "Don't feel bad," she'd teased, knowing he felt _far_ from bad. "I knew someone a lot like you when I was a kid."

He'd quirked a brow. "Oh yeah?" he'd asked, a little doubtfully.

"Mhm," she'd hummed, smirking. "Her name was Mackenzie. She was a good friend of mine—she shared an apartment with Danny and I, actually—and she was pretty much your female equivalent." He'd laughed a bit at that. "But, to her credit, she never slept with any teachers. Not until college, anyway."

He'd just rolled his eyes and leaned back against the bumper of the car. "Alright, alright, I'm a slut," he admitted unabashedly. "Let's hear 'bout your high school love life, then."

She'd sniggered slightly. "Please," she said flatly, "mine's not _nearly_ as interesting as yours."

He'd smirked a bit at that. "That so?"

"Yep," she replied honestly. "My high school love life started and ended with one name; José, who was my second boyfriend." She'd smiled fondly for a moment; José was always a good guy.

"Firs' boyfriend didn't get any?" he'd asked, still smirking.

"Nope. Ironically enough, he broke up with me because I wouldn't put out. Danny sure as hell made him regret it later, though," she recalled with a light laugh. "Jordan _really_ liked that shitty little Mustang his dad paid for. Danny skipped outta lunch the next day and keyed his car and let the air outta the tires in the school parking lot."

Shane had nodded appreciatively. "He leave a message, or jus' a nice slash through the paint?" he'd asked.

Jenna couldn't help but to snigger again. "Right across the hood of the car, he carved 'One-Minute Man'—that was Kenzie's suggestion, though. And believe me, about half the kids at school had a picture of it on their phones by the end of the day."

Shane chuckled again, shaking his head in amusement. "One-Minute Man, huh?"

She'd smirked. "Yep. Which, coincidentally, Kenzie and I nicknamed my third boyfriend, who I met in my first year of college; One-Minute Mason."

Shane had laughed heartily at that one, and Jenna hadn't been able to keep herself from laughing along with him.

The sound of her own name being spoken snapped Jenna back to the present, and she shifted her eyes over toward the clothes line, where Carol and Lori were finishing up with hanging the wet laundry. Neither of them were looking her direction, however, so she figured she'd just imagined it.

"Please—Jenna an' Dusty are college kids," said Lori in a mutter as she hung up a shirt that looked like it belonged to Glenn. "I think you an' I are the only ones who're gonna be at home in a kitchen," she added, throwing a look in Andrea's direction up on the RV—out of earshot from Lori and Carol.

Jenna just smirked slightly, and kept the snide comment about the setbacks of getting married right out of high school to herself as she returned her attention to Thao.

"Couldn't hurt to ask," said Carol lightly, seeming to be doing the same thing Jenna was trying to do—keeping the peace.

"If you're sure," replied Lori with a definite doubtful note in her voice.

"Hey, Jenna?" Carol called, and Jenna looked over at her in question, as though she hadn't heard anything of their conversation. "Would you an' Dusty mind helpin me an' Lori cook dinner for Hershel an' his family tonight?"

"I don't mind at all," Jenna answered honestly. "We kind of owe them something, don't we?"

Carol smiled slightly. "Just what I was thinkin."

"You know how to cook?" Lori asked, trying, Jenna could tell, not to sound too skeptical about that prospect.

_I'm partially Italian—yes, I can cook._ "Well enough," she said simply, turning back around to help Thao with his reading when he began to struggle.

"Walker!" Andrea called out in an alarmed voice, snaring everyone's attention automatically. Jenna snapped her head around to look at the fields, where she assumed the walker was—she hadn't even seen a walker on the property in all the time they'd been there, not counting the bloated, water-soaked corpse that had been stewing in the well for God only knew how long.

"_Walker!_" Andrea announced again, her voice much more alarmed than it already was.

"Stay put," Jenna instructed Thao under her breath as she got to her feet and joined the little group that had gathered at the front of the camp site to peer into the fields.

Coming to a stop beside Glenn, Jenna raised her arm to shield her eyes from the sun—and in the distance, coming out of the tree line at the furthest end of the field, was a solitary walker, stumbling slowly, oh so slowly, in the direction of the farm.

"That's it?" Dusty griped, mirroring Jenna's thoughts exactly, when she came to stand at Jenna's other side to see what all the commotion was about. "'S gonna take at least an hour before it actually gets here. Good Lord," she grumbled, rolling her eyes and walking over to their tent, picking up her hatchet.

Jenna took inventory of the rest of the group, and found that she, Dusty, and Glenn were the only ones who weren't exactly alarmed by the presence of the walker in the field. Even T-Dog, as big as he was, looked a little anxious. Rick just looked like this was the last thing he wanted to deal with at the moment.

"Jus' the one?" he asked patiently, approaching the RV, where Andrea stood with the binoculars in hand.

Andrea peered through the binoculars, in the direction of the lowered evening sun. "I bet I can nail it from here," she said eagerly rather than giving Rick an answer, picking up the Remington rifle at her feet.

"_No_, Andrea," Rick admonished immediately. "Put the gun down."

"You best let us handle this," came Shane's gruff voice, sounding even more ragged than usual, seeing as he'd probably been woken up by her startled voice.

Jenna turned her head slightly at the sound of his approach to see him carrying a pickaxe, and she blinked in slight shock when she realized he'd left his shirt unbuttoned, exposing his muscular, golden-toned upper body. _Holy shit… _

It wasn't as though she'd never noticed that Shane was obviously well built, but still…holy shit.

"Shane, hold up," urged Rick's voice, snapping Jenna out of it. "Hershel wants to deal with walkers," he informed, holding a hand out as though to stop the other cop.

Shane just shrugged, unperturbed. "What for, man? We got it covered."

Seeing that T-Dog and Glenn were already following after Shane, Rick cursed under his breath and sped into the RV to retrieve his trusty Python before moving to catch up with them. Jenna didn't see why they didn't just wait for it to get a little closer and do most of the work for them, but, to each his own, she figured.

"You comin?" Dusty asked her, hatchet in hand.

Jenna shook her head. "Nah, I'll stay with the little man," she said, nodding her head in Thao's direction, where he sat at the picnic table, craning his neck to try and see what had everyone so worried. "Have at it," she said with a smirk, waving her hand in the direction the _menfolk_ had taken off in.

Dusty laughed lightly and took off at a jog to catch up with them.

"Is Dusty gonna be okay?" Sophia asked timidly, standing close to her mother's side while those who'd stayed behind stood to watch after the others as they drew upon the stumbling walker.

"I'm sure she'll be just fine, baby," Carol assured her gently.

"There's only one walker, Soph," Jenna told the girl. "And there're five of them. No one's gonna get hurt."

Really, she didn't see the point in Rick bringing his gun—if he couldn't find a bladed weapon or a blunt instrument, she would've happily lent him her machete. But with T-Dog's aluminum bat, Glenn's machete, Dusty's hatchet, and Shane's pickaxe, they pretty much had all the bases covered. And a gunshot would just be a loud, unnecessary waste of ammunition—not to mention that it would be like sending up a bright red flare for any other walkers in the area.

She frowned and strained her eyes, however, when the five of them all came to a stop within grasping distance of the walker and none of them killed it. And, more bizarrely, the walker didn't seem to be about to attack any of them, either.

"What the fuck…?" Jenna whispered to herself, puzzled.

Was that a _living_ person, then? How in the…but what other explanation could there be? Walkers did not just stand still and docile when living, breathing humans were within reach, no matter how mangled and deteriorated they were. So who the hell had wandered onto the farm? And how in the hell had they even located the farm, of all the places they could've wandered in those woods? Unless they knew the property? But who—

A loud, echoing blast erupted at Jenna's left, making her jump, and cutting off all train of thought for a moment. She snapped her head around and saw Andrea lowered down on her stomach atop the RV, Remington aimed toward the others in the field.

* * *

**Note:**

You didn't think I'd leave this part out of the story, did you? ;)


	40. Two Steps Back

**Disclaimer: You all know the score by now...I don't own The Walking Dead. Just Jenna, Thao, Dusty, and Danny. And any other characters I bring into the mix later on. No copyright intended. **

**Warning: **Rated M for language, gore, and eventual smut.

* * *

_"The truth is, unless you let go, unless you forgive yourself, unless you forgive the situation, unless you realize that the situation is over, you cannot move forward."_

_― Steve Maraboli_

* * *

Two Steps Back

"What the _hell_?" Jenna demanded, both angry and incredulous, as she glared at Andrea, who was looking highly satisfied with herself when she saw the mystery man go down.

Jenna had about a hundred questions to ask the woman right then, but that question was all she could seem to get out.

So much for keeping the peace.

Thao ran up to her side, clinging to her leg tightly—startled by the shot. Just as Andrea began to turn her gaze over to Jenna defiantly, yelling could be heard in the field where the others were. Jenna craned her neck to see Rick waving his arms in their direction, and she was just able to make out that he was yelling _no_ repeatedly. Seeing as the man was down, it was a little late for that. Andrea was no sniper, and she'd had the sun in a very bad position—it was a foolhardy shot to make, and Jenna was just relieved that she hadn't hit any of the others. She wondered who it was that she _had_ hit, though. The poor, unlucky bastard.

Andrea was gazing through the binoculars again, and when she dropped them and inhaled a sharp intake of air, Jenna assumed she'd finally realized the person she'd just shot had been _alive_—a few seconds ago, anyway.

"Ohmigod—_Daryl_!" she choked out.

Jenna felt like she'd just been punched in the gut by the Incredible Hulk, and her heart slammed to a violent halt.

_What?_

In the next instant, Lori, Carol, Dale, and Andrea were sprinting off in the direction of the others. Once Jenna managed to shake herself out of her horrified stupor, she pulled Thao over to where Sophia stood by the RV, watching anxiously as the others sped off.

"You two stay right here," she ordered, her tone not one to be argued with, and bolted off toward the field.

Jenna sprinted by Carol and Lori when they stopped at the fence line dividing the yard from the field, not pausing to tell Lori, who was screaming hysterically for Rick, that her husband was obviously fine, considering he was the one yelling and waving his arms at them. She caught up to Andrea and Dale by the time they'd reached the middle of the field, and she almost stumbled flat on her face in the rough grass at the sight of a blood-soaked Daryl held up between Rick and Shane as they dragged him back toward camp.

"Ohmigod—ohmigod—is he dead?" Andrea asked, her voice pleading and as panicky as Lori's.

Jenna's mind had been frantically asking the same question since the moment she'd realized the man Andrea just shot down was Daryl. Covered in blood, smeared with dirt, and hanging limply between Rick and Shane, he certainly _looked_ dead.

"He's jus' unconscious," Rick answered, very obvious anger in his voice, though he did a remarkable job at keeping it contained. "Bullet jus' grazed 'im."

Jenna breathed a heavy sigh of relief at those words, getting her racing heart back under control. Daryl was alright—or not dead, anyway. She took note of the others to see that Glenn was holding a string of over a dozen squirrels, and Dusty was holding Daryl's beloved Horton in both hands. The furious scowl she was giving Andrea brought Jenna's initial anger rising to the surface again. Now that her previous anxieties had been washed away, there was room for anger again.

"What part of 'put the gun down' did you not understand?" she demanded, glowering at the woman.

She didn't bother waiting for an answer—she was too pissed off to be able to even think clearly—but instead lunged in Andrea's direction. Fortunately for her, Glenn reacted quickly enough to hold Jenna back before she could reach the older woman. Unfortunately for her, however, no one was quick enough to stop Dusty, who'd charged at Andrea in the same instant, dropping the Horton to the ground.

In hindsight, if it had been strung with an arrow already, Andrea might've been the one to take a true shot to the head at that moment.

Jenna couldn't see clearly what exactly happened, because her view was blocked by T-Dog and Dale, who jumped forward to pull the women apart. Andrea had her hand pressed over her cheek with a bewildered expression after they were separated, though, so Jenna could only assume that Dusty'd gotten at least one hit in.

"Everyone, _calm down_!" Rick admonished, rapidly losing the hold he still had on his composure. "This ain't the time for this, so jus' calm down!" he hissed angrily.

Jenna followed his gaze when he glanced back toward the farm to see the rest of the group standing among the Greene family at the edge of the yard, Hershel standing at the front. And she could see Rick's point; this definitely wasn't making the best impression on the old man who was letting them pitch their tents in his yard. Moreover, she wasn't helping anything with her outburst—justified as she felt it was—so she decided to bite her tongue and hold her ground. Right now, punching the woman in the throat wasn't the priority, as appealing as that thought was. Daryl's wellbeing was the priority. He was alive, sure, but from the looks of it, that could've changed pretty quickly.

She shook herself out of Glenn's restricting hold and picked up the string of squirrels that he'd dropped, moving to walk after Rick and Shane, who'd begun to make their way toward the house again. Only when he was certain Dusty wouldn't be leaping at Andrea's throat again did T-Dog release Dusty from his hold. She grabbed the crossbow and stormed off, glowering at anything and everything in her sight on her way to the camp site.

Jenna knew Andrea hadn't _completely_ escaped Dusty's wrath—she'd just evaded it for the time being. For her sake, Jenna hoped she was a fast runner.

* * *

"Nice move, buddy," Jenna told Thao when he finally made his move on the checkers board, after much careful deliberation.

He grinned happily, and she made sure to take her time before making her next move, in order to give the boy ample time to think of his own. They were sitting on the floor of the porch with the game board between them—she'd made sure to stay at the back of the porch, wanting to be well away from Andrea and Dale, who were seated on the front steps on the other side. She had certainly failed to forgive the woman so far, despite how guilty she looked.

Jenna really couldn't sympathize with her. Could there have been a riskier way to prove a point? If she wanted to be trusted with a firearm, then knowing enough not to shoot in the direction of anyone you _don't_ intent to kill would be a damn good start. She could've easily killed any one of them in that field.

She'd been planning on tearing her a new one as soon as she was sure that Daryl would be okay, but Dusty beat her to it. T-Dog made sure to keep her from lunging at Andrea again, but there was no stopping the verbal lashing Dusty unleashed.

Seeing that Andrea was more than thoroughly chastened, Jenna had decided to leave it at that. It had been a rash, heat-of-the-moment impulse to jump at her back in the field, and she was both glad and annoyed that Glenn had stopped her. She'd been so furious with the woman's stupidity that she hadn't stopped to take in certain considerations, like the stability of the group, which needed to remain in balance if they wanted to survive together. Like the fact that the more discord among them Hershel witnessed, the more likely he would be to kick them out. Like the fact that Thao would've seen the whole beat-down unfold, and that wasn't something Jenna wanted him to witness.

In any case, Dusty had taken care of both the physical and verbal reprimand, so Jenna decided to leave well enough alone. From the looks of things, Daryl was going to be just fine.

Jenna shook her head slightly, recalling the explanation he'd given them when he'd come to. The horse he'd taken—without permission, apparently—had been scared by something while out hunting, and tossed him off in fright, sending him tumbling down a steep slope and into the shallow, rocky water below. His crossbow had gone off in the tumble, and that was how he'd ended up with an arrow in his side.

All in all, he'd taken another tumble down the slope after a failed attempted to climb it the first time, been knocked out in the second landing, fought off two walkers when he'd regained consciousness, and navigated his way back to the farm, injuries notwithstanding.

Only Daryl Dixon would go through all that and still have it in his head to grab the string of squirrels before heading back to camp so the rest of them could eat.

What was it that he'd said back in Atlanta, on the search for Merle? _"Toughest asshole I ever met,"_ or something along those lines. In any case, it was very obvious to Jenna that Merle wasn't the only Dixon brother that could take a licking and keep on ticking.

Based on the aged scars she'd caught a glimpse of while Hershel was stitching him up, she guessed he'd learned how to deal with pain long, long ago. She could only imagine what must've happened to him to leave those lasting marks, and it certainly would've explained some things. Like his aversion to physical contact, which she could also understand, to some degree. She recalled the way he'd been startled when her hand had pressed into his middle back at the CDC, when she'd meant to keep him from advancing on Jenner. She'd thought that he'd just been surprised, but now she thought it might've been more than that…

After seeing the scars, Jenna had been quick to exit the room, going instead to help Lori, Maggie, Beth, and Patricia in the kitchen. It looked like there were too many people in the room for Daryl's comfort anyway.

She'd managed to get through the prep work, chopping up carrots, stringing beans, and peeling potatoes, before she'd left the rest to the others and gone to keep Thao entertained, as he was growing a bit restless in the living room. It couldn't have been soon enough for Jenna. She'd wanted to get out of that kitchen as soon as Lori grumbled about being glad she didn't have to settle for roasting the squirrels over a fire pit tonight.

Comments like that normally irked Jenna. For someone who'd been half-starved for a good portion of her travels, any food was good food, and fresh meat was practically a delicacy, no matter what it was or how it was cooked. But after everything Daryl had gone through just to make sure the rest of them had something to eat, that comment _really_ got under Jenna's skin.

"Better that than starve," she'd said flatly while she'd been peeling potatoes next to Beth. "Not that you'd really know."

Not exactly keeping the peace, but she was too pissed off about the day's events to care at that point. And honestly, what was the longest Lori had ever gone without food? One full day, at the most? She'd never been so hungry that she felt like she was literally about to collapse and die. She'd never been so emaciated that she could not only visibly count her ribs, but if a person wasn't looking closely enough, they could've honestly mistaken her for a walker. To someone who had experienced that, comments like Lori's were extremely grating. And for someone who didn't have to hunt or gather their own food, they really had no business complaining about what food was brought to them.

Jenna knew that Lori had been taken back by her words without even looking up at the woman, and there was suddenly a good deal of tension in the kitchen as the women now worked in silence, but Jenna couldn't really find it in herself to care. The first opportunity she saw to leave and join her boy, she'd taken. Thao always appreciated food, at least, and he'd never starved. Jenna had made damn sure of that.

She looked behind her at the sound of the screen door opening to see Shane leaning through the threshold. "Dinner's ready," he informed her.

She nodded, and turned her gaze back to Thao. "Looks like the game's over, buddy," she told him, and then took note of the grubby state of her boy's hands. "Go inside and wash up for dinner, okay?"

He nodded and she ruffled his hair as he moved by her. Shane stepped aside and held the door open for him, and then gave Jenna an amused expression that she didn't understand.

"You calmed down a bit?" he asked, struggling for her sake not to laugh, she could tell.

She narrowed her eyes, barely containing a smirk of her own. "Yes, thank you," she said, folding up the game board and dropping it into the box along with the pieces.

He chuckled a bit, not fooled, and stepped out onto the porch with her. "You were really gonna kick her ass, weren't ya?"

"There was no question about that," she replied truthfully. "If Glenn didn't stop me, I would've gone full-blown city girl—assuming Dusty didn't push me outta the way to get to her," she qualified with smug smirk.

"Full-blown city girl, huh?" he asked. "Too bad. That woulda been worth seein."

Jenna snorted and rolled her eyes. "I told you before, group settings aren't really my thing. Chances are, it'll happen again."

"With any luck, I'll be there to see it," he said with a low chuckle as he held the door open for her.

She laughed lightly with him before stowing away the game into the cabinet in the living room where the rest of the board games were stored.

As soon as she got Thao settled with his plate of food—he'd opted to join Sophia in Carl's room, eager to hang with the "big kids"—Jenna wandered over to the dining room, finding that the only vacant seat left was beside Lori.

Fantastic.

But, if she had to choose between Lori or Andrea, she figured she might as well have gone with the lesser of two nuisances, so she took her seat at the end of the table without a word. The tension between them was noticeable immediately, but neither of them spoke a word, ignoring the other's presence the best they could under the present circumstances. If Dusty was at the table, it would've been very easy to ignore—Dusty was always up for conversation, and always good for a laugh. But, she'd taken a plate of food to Daryl and was enjoying her own meal with him.

As the meal progressed—mostly in silence—it was apparent that the tension wasn't restricted to the space between Jenna and Lori. Andrea was looking more sullen than ever, a faint red mark on her cheek left as a reminder of her enormous mistake, as she picked at her food in silence. Rick looked more stressed out than he had in weeks. Hershel was throwing accusatory glances all around the table, and it was obvious how displeased he was with this new arrangement.

Perhaps dinners should remain separate between the two groups from now on.

"Does anyone know how to play guitar?" Glenn's voice asked, breaking through the stiff silence that hung in the dining room like a thick fog. "C'mon, somebody's got to…"

There was silence, and then, softly, "Otis did."

Jenna's eyes moved over toward Patricia in time to see her duck her head after speaking, her eyes downcast and faraway, her mind lost in some memory with Otis, no doubt. She felt more than saw Shane shift uncomfortably in his seat across from her, and she worked to keep her expression absolutely neutral.

"Yes, he did," agreed Hershel, his voice consoling as he spoke to Patricia at his left. "An' he was very good."

She didn't know how to continue the conversation, but she just needed to take it in another direction. So, casually, Jenna spoke up. "Dusty says she can. Never heard her play though."

Thankfully, T-Dog seemed to know just how to alleviate the somber atmosphere. "Might have to give her Glenn's guitar and see if she can prove it. Girl likes to talk a big game," he noted, obviously referring to her poker strategy then.

That earned a few light chuckles among the table as some of the tension drifted from the room.

Jenna let her gaze sweep around the table casually, only pausing on Dale for a second or two longer than the others—just long enough to ascertain that he wasn't glaring daggers in Shane's direction, but briefly enough so as not to tip anyone off about what she was doing. Actually, his disapproving gaze was leveled at Glenn's turned back, who was exchanging flirtatious looks with Maggie.

Thinking back to the tell-tale grin on Glenn's face when he'd returned from the pharmacy run with Maggie, Jenna almost laughed aloud, and she might have, if she were in a better mood.

Unable to stop herself, she glanced up at Shane in time for him to do the same, conveying gratitude in his dark eyes without saying a word or even changing his facial expression from the neutral mask he wore. She didn't have to nod or anything for him to know that she'd caught his meaning, and instead just turned her own eyes back down to the food on her plate.

They could enjoy life. They could joke and laugh and reminisce the good old days. But neither of them could escape their past—they both knew that.

But, she couldn't really complain too much. Despite the odds, Daryl was going to be just fine. She and Thao had a roof over her head, food in their stomachs, and a group that was stronger than it was dysfunctional. She had a confidante to lean on. Shane had been able to avoid suspicion. All in all, things didn't turn out too bad.

She had to count her blessings, and appreciate the little things, because who knew how long the little things would last?

* * *

**Note: **

I know most of you were hoping for an Andrea beat-down, but I hope Dusty's punch was enough to tide you over. And don't worry, because I haven't ruled it out for later. ;)

As ever, a big thanks to those who've reviewed, favorited, and followed this story! And I'm sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors.


	41. Pipe Dreams

**Disclaimer: I solemnly swear that I am not the owner of The Walking Dead. No copyright intended.**

**Warning: **Rated M for language, gore, and eventual smut.

* * *

_"Sometimes I'm terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger of whatever it is it wants. The way it stops and starts."_

_—Edgar Allan Poe_

* * *

Pipe Dreams

**_Washington; August of 2011 (One Year Prior)_**

"I think I might start taking Collin out to the range," said Danny as they drove away from the parking lot of Bellevue's West Coast Armory, after a good full afternoon of target practice.

Jenna had just bought her first handgun a week before, and was eager to try it out. Sure, her dad liked to give her a hard time about her decision to buy a Beretta pistol, being a die-hard revolver fan himself, but she didn't mind. She'd been planning to go with a good Smith & Wesson, but as soon as she'd tried the Beretta for the first time, she'd fallen in love.

"He's twelve," Jenna pointed out, weaving her hand through the rushing air out the passenger window. "Wouldn't your mom kinda freak out? I mean, she all but had a heart attack when you starting taking shooting lessons—and you were eighteen."

Danny snorted with amusement at the memory. "True. Dad didn't mind though. Maybe I'll ask him first," he said wryly.

They both knew how effective that was likely to be. Kathleen Kendrick was the decision maker in her household, and the loveable, if not sometimes overbearing, mother hen was surely not going to be too thrilled by the idea of her youngest son taking up gunmanship as a hobby. As eager as Collin was to follow in his brother's footsteps, Jenna really didn't see Kathleen letting that happen in this case. Which was understandable. Twelve-year-olds and guns weren't exactly an ideal combination. Jenna's father had made her wait until she was fifteen to start shooting lessons.

Their favorite Quiet Riot song started playing through the small speakers of the old '92 Honda Accord, and Danny reached forward and cranked up the volume a bit. Thanks to Jenna's father, both she and Danny had a taste for 80s metal and classic rock. Danny spent so much time at her house when they were kids, he was practically considered a second son to her dad.

"Do you think we'll ever get Kenzie to come to the range with us?" Jenna wondered idly, leaning back in her seat with her feet propped up on the dashboard.

Danny snorted again. "Yeah, _that'll_ happen." He rolled his eyes. "She'd be bored in about ten minutes. And she's such a spaz, it'd probably be dangerous to put a gun in her hand," he added with a smirk, very obvious fondness in his hazel eyes.

"True," Jenna agreed, and then, casually, "so, when are you gonna tell her?"

He quirked a brow at her. "Tell her what?"

She gave him a long look. "That you have an oddly strong dislike of the word via," she said sarcastically. "What do you think I'm talking about? That you _love_ her," she teased, reaching over and walking her fingers up his shoulder playfully.

He just rolled his eyes, trying play it off. "I do not," he defended, his voice oh so casual. "She's just one of my best friends—kinda like you."

"Pffft, you're an awful liar," she admonished jokingly. "You like her, and you know it. There's a reason you absolutely _loathe_ every single guy she's ever been with."

He shrugged, unruffled. "They're all assholes, idiots, or just all around good-for-nothings," he maintained. "She can do better. And it's not like I particularly like any of your boyfriends either, Mouse," he reminded her.

"You liked José," she corrected—and then mentally kicked herself. José was still a sore spot for him. She continued on quickly. "And you're right, she can do better—there's not much better than you, stud."

He just laughed and rolled his eyes again. He wasn't agreeing with her, but he didn't seem to be about to argue, so she took the opening.

"C'mon, use some of that patented Danny Kendrick charm and put it to good use for once," she urged, ruffling his messy hair.

"Okay, just for argument's sake, say I do like her," he ventured after a moment. "What if we start dating, and things go south from there? What if we fuck up a perfectly good friendship because of a failed relationship? What then?"

Jenna was honestly stumped by that one. She hadn't even considered it before—the thought of Danny and Mackenzie not getting along was so foreign to her, it just never even crossed her mind. But, he had a good point. Would it really be worth it to risk their friendship to try out a romantic relationship that may or may not last? When she looked at it that way, she could see why Danny wouldn't want to mess up a good thing.

"Good point," she admitted, and he smirked triumphantly. "But, just for argument's sake, I know you're crazy about her."

**_End Flashback_**

Jenna leaned over the hood of the Cherokee, studying the terrain map she had spread out over the metal surface, looking for a familiar road—and having no luck. If only she'd been paying more attention to things like street names and landmarks when she'd spent time with the Kendrick family in Georgia two years ago. She was sure she was at least in the general area—not too far from the main highway, but far enough away to give the old house a good amount of privacy—but other than that, she was utterly lost. She'd asked Maggie if she knew the Kendrick family, with no luck there, either.

She didn't want to face the fact that the chances of actually finding Danny—alive and well, no less—were slim to none. But, she'd come this far, hadn't she? After everything it had taken to get to Georgia, how could she possibly bow out now? And, she had no real reason to believe he wasn't still alive.

But, she had no real reason to believe he wasn't dead, either.

She swallowed that about as easily as one would swallow a heavy, jagged stone.

She was so close, though. Despite the odds, she couldn't forgive herself if she gave up—if she just cut her losses and turned her back on the possibility that he might be out there, alive. And, when it really came down to it, she needed to know. One way or another, she needed to know what had become of her one truest friend.

She stared down at the map, her eyes taking in every detail for the umpteenth time, to no avail. It wasn't providing any answers, and she wasn't sure she would even recognize them if it was.

"Hey," greeted a gruff voice she recognized easily, pulling her back to the present.

She turned her gaze toward the voice to see Shane approaching the Cherokee with Rick, both of them squinting slightly in the bright sunlight. The sun was as present as ever, but the wind had picked up a little, so it wasn't an absolute scorcher today.

"Hey," she replied, wondering what they wanted.

"You mind if we have a look at that?" Rick asked, gesturing to the map.

She shook her head and stepped off to the side, relinquishing the map to the two of them. It wasn't doing her any good, in any case. Neither of them inquired as to what she was looking for, and she was grateful for that, not wanting to have to come up with a bullshit excuse. She wondered if they knew she was chasing a dream—one she probably wouldn't achieve.

"Hey, Jenna," said Rick as she turned to walk away.

"Hm?" she replied, her head still somewhat in the clouds.

"What would you say to teachin Sophia to shoot today?" he asked, and her mind was defogged instantly.

"What?"

Shane snorted a bit at the obvious apprehension in her tone, but Rick was the one to answer. "Carol wants her to learn to shoot," Rick explained, managing to keep his expression more neutral than Shane's. "Sophia's not quite as enthusiastic, an' if me or Shane tried to teach 'er, she'd jus' be nervous."

Jenna was far from convinced. "I'm not sure I'd be your best option…" she stated warily.

Rick chuckled a bit that time, while Shane stood at his other side, leaning against the hood of the Cherokee, smirking—the smug jackass. "Look, we'll be there," Rick assured her. "But we jus' think it'd be a good idea if you're the one standin' there givin' her a few pointers. You been trained, right?"

"Yeah, I've been licensed to carry for five years, but that doesn't make me a certified instructor," she said, nodding at Shane.

"Listen, girl, you'll do jus' fine," Shane promised her, though he hadn't lost the amused smirk. "Already ran it by Carol, an' she's fine with it."

She looked between them while they waited for her answer, and then nodded, conceding reluctantly. She'd never taught anyone to shoot before, let alone a ten-year-old child. Who the hell thought that would be a good idea?

"Alright, thank you," said Rick as Shane whistled to get Glenn's attention, who was down by the fire pit talking to Lori.

They turned around as Glenn approached them, a basket of peaches in his hold. They each took one, and Jenna took a bite, savoring the taste. She loved the peaches from the small orchard on Hershel's property. She hadn't had peaches this sweet since the last time she'd been in Georgia. Swallowing the bite, she quirked her eyes up to Glenn when he hovered at the side of the Jeep, looking at Rick a little awkwardly, but remaining silent.

"Binoculars?" Shane requested, frowning at Glenn, seeming as puzzled by his strange behavior as Jenna was.

Glenn jumped a bit when he'd been addressed, like he'd just been jabbed with an electric rod. He recovered himself in the next second though. "Yeah, sure," he said quickly, removing the binoculars from his neck and handing them to Rick.

"Thank you," said Rick, a little warily.

"Yeah," said Glenn distractedly, picking up the basket of peaches and striding away from them hurriedly. "'Kay, bye."

Jenna watched him go, unable to understand his bizarre behavior. "The fuck…?" she wondered under her breath while Shane and Rick laughed amusedly at his strange demeanor.

Rick turned back around and studied the map for a few seconds, while Jenna tried to focus on eating her peach, and not so much on the black-haired man standing across the hood from her. Attraction. It was a bit of a problem lately. Yes, she'd confessed her atrocities to Shane. Yes, he knew her better than any of the others did. Yes, she trusted him with that knowledge. But she wasn't so sure about getting _that_ close to someone again.

"We should go south this way," said Rick, tracing his finger along the map. "It'd get us to that range you found a lot quicker," he said to Shane.

He nodded easily. "We'll be takin a risk with the noise, but as long as we keep a lookout we should be fine."

"Mr. Grimes?"

Jenna turned her head to see Beth, Patricia, and Jimmy approaching the Cherokee.

"We wanna join you for gun trainin today," Beth explained as they came to a stop a short distance away.

"Hershel's been very clear," said Rick honestly. "I can't involve any one of you in what we do without his okay."

"He doesn't like it, but he consented," Beth assured him.

"Otis was the only one who knew guns," said Patricia, changing tack when she saw that Rick wasn't swayed by the girl's words. Jenna's stomach turned over a bit, but she kept her demeanor relaxed and neutral. "Now that he's gone, we gotta learn to protect ourselves."

Shane looked away, and Jenna made sure to keep her gaze fixed on Beth, Patricia, and Jimmy, so as not to draw attention to him.

"Her father saw the sense in that," Patricia finished.

Rick nodded. "No offense, but, I'll ask Hershel myself," he told them mildly, and Jenna cut her eyes to Jimmy, who fidgeted uncomfortably.

Shane moved away from the Jeep and approached Carl, who looked a little downtrodden where he stood leaning against the side of the RV under the awning, sharpening a stick with his pocket knife. The boy was now well enough to be freed from bed rest, but it didn't look as though he was enjoying his new freedom.

"All yours," said Rick, indicating the map, as the Greenes made their way back to the house.

"Thanks," Jenna said quietly, avoiding eye contact as she rolled up the map—there was no point in looking over everything she'd seen a hundred times already.

If Rick had been about to make an inquiry as to what she was looking for, he didn't get the chance, for in the next moment, Shane called his name to get his attention from where he stood by the RV. Carl was standing behind him, his head down, looking much like a child who knew he was in deep trouble.

Jenna stowed the map away in the Cherokee as Rick went to see what the problem was. She followed, heading in the direction of the campsite when she saw Thao emerge from their tent, sleepy and disheveled from his nap.

As Jenna approached, she could see the makings of a family dispute around the fire pit. Lori took the Colt revolver Shane held in his hand, checked the cylinder, and snapped it back into place in a quick, angry motion before tucking it away into her belt. From the look on Carl's face, Jenna guessed he'd taken the gun without permission.

"How the hell did this happen?" Lori demanded Rick in a voice of determined calm.

Jenna took Thao's hand and led him away from the area, not wanting to intrude on the Grimes' family dilemma. "Come on, buddy," she said. "Let's go see what the chickens are up to, hm?"

He perked right up then, and took the lead, pulling her in the direction of the chicken coop. She let him play for a while, throwing feed to the chickens and following around a lone group of chicks. Jenna wondered vaguely where their mother was, but most of her thoughts were based around the pipe dream she'd been chasing for months now. She knew the odds were stacked against her, she knew the odds were equally stacked against Danny. She'd survived mostly by dumb luck—and acts of murder—so who was to say that Danny hadn't been blessed with the same amount of luck she'd been granted? What if his luck had run out long, long ago?

Just entertaining the thought of his probable death was like a knife twisting in her chest.

But, if she was being honest with herself, then she knew it would be best to get used to that feeling. Because if she wasn't prepared for it, and it turned out that he was dead, she knew it would absolutely destroy her. And she couldn't afford that anymore. _It's not about you anymore, remember? _She scolded herself. _It's about the little boy you owe your life to. _

"Hey," greeted Sophia as she stepped around the side of the coop. "Shane and Rick say it's time to head out to the range."

"Alright, thanks, sweetheart," said Jenna.

Sophia smiled a bit shyly. "Is Thao coming too?"

"Yep," Jenna answered. "Come on, buddy. Time to go."

Thao looked up at her with his big eyes, pouting slightly. "Aww, mama…do we have to?" he whined, clearly not ready to say goodbye to the chickens just yet.

"Yes, buddy, I'm sorry," Jenna sympathized, putting an arm around his shoulders to lead him away.

Sophia grinned slightly. "Come on, Thao. You're gonna watch your mama teach me how to shoot," she promised him—raising the boy's spirits immediately.

Jenna had to smirk a bit. Of course, he was a five-year-old boy; anything to do with guns was a lot cooler than feeding chickens.

"Hey, girly," Dusty greeted Sophia with a fond smile as she, Jenna, and Thao approached camp again. "Your mama's waitin' for ya at the car," she informed, pointing to the Cherokee.

Sophia made her way to join her mother at the car, where the Grimes trio was standing around. Everyone who was going to shooting practice was heading for one car or another. She didn't see Daryl anywhere, and recalled that he was still in his tent on bed rest, as were Hershel's orders.

"Say bye to Daryl?" Jenna asked, working to keep her face straight.

"Yeah," said Dusty, seemingly oblivious to Jenna's vague insinuation. "Left 'im some of your books too, by the way. Hope ya don't mind—jus' figured he'd be bored as hell."

"Oh, nice of you to ask," Jenna joked as they approached the Hyundai.

Dusty laughed easily, unruffled, and Jenna opened the back door of the vehicle, gesturing for Thao to climb in while she and Dusty helped Shane load the guns and ammunition into the back.

"You comin?" Shane asked Glenn, who was standing off to the side a little awkwardly, seeing them off.

"I've gotta help Dale change the sparkplugs in the RV," Glenn said, tripping over his words slightly. "He's, uh—he's gonna teach me mechanics… I should probably go…go look for him…"

Jenna and Dusty glanced at each other, each of them quirking an eyebrow questioningly. What the hell was up with Glenn today?

"Sparkplugs, huh?" Shane asked him, smirking slightly. "Coulda asked Jenna—she knows all about sparkplugs."

Glenn nodded a little sheepishly before heading off in search of Dale.

Jenna did her best not to laugh, and nudged Shane in the side with her elbow. "Ass," she accused, trying and failing not to smirk.

He and Dusty laughed lightly as they settled into the car. Once they were seated and ready to go, Dusty riding shotgun, Jenna and Thao lounging in the backseat, they followed after the old blue Ford and the Cherokee along the dirt road.

Jenna caught Shane's eyes in the rearview mirror once during the ride, but she averted her gaze as quickly as casually possible. It really didn't make sense to be so attracted to him. How many times did she have to learn that wanting things these days never brought about any trace of happiness? What was the point in wanting things anymore, when there was little chance you'd get it? And if you did, it wouldn't last very long anyway, before it was inevitably lost.

As far as she was concerned, it was just another pipe dream, and there was no point in chasing it.

* * *

**Note: **

A guest reviewer recently pointed out to me that I haven't been doing a very good job with this story. This came as a bit of a blow to me, as I try to make things interesting. I value your opinions, so if there's anything I can do to improve, please let me know! I really want to make this story the best I can.


	42. Point & Shoot

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead, nor do I pretend to...as awesome as that would be. No copyright intended.**

**Warning: **Rated M for language, gore, and eventual smut.

* * *

_"I saw them standing there pretending to be just friends, when all the time in the world could not pry them apart."_

_—Brian Andreas_

* * *

Point & Shoot

As soon as they arrived at the range with the others, they began setting up empty cans and bottles along the posts that were the standing remainder of a fence that had once been there, countless years ago. Jenna and Dusty kept an eye out on the area for any sign of walkers while Rick, Shane, and T-Dog set things up for them and proceeded to hand everyone who was learning to shoot a gun after lining them up evenly so no one was standing in front of anyone else. Each person was allowed three targets, be it in the form of a can or a bottle.

Shane gave them all a quick instructive lecture on safety before he let anyone even think about pulling the trigger, and Jenna couldn't keep herself from thinking that if he'd been her gun instructor years ago, missing her first shot might've had nothing to do with nerves, and everything to do with distraction.

_Focus, for fuck's sake. You're teaching a ten-year-old how to shoot._

Jenna stood beside Sophia, who held a pocket-sized Smith & Wesson revolver in both hands very carefully, as though afraid it might explode if she handled it a little too roughly. She gave the girl a reassuring wink, and then looked back to where Thao was standing with Carol, watching closely. The tree line was a ways behind them, but still, she wasn't accustomed to Thao being between her and a potential source of danger. She usually tried to keep things the other way around. But, as soon as she was done with Sophia, she would be able to amend that situation.

"Alright, three rounds a piece," Rick told them all, standing behind the shooting line a bit with the Remington rifle in his hands—keeping guard. "Everyone stay alert. We're takin a risk with the noise, but a necessary one."

"Let's make these count, y'all," Shane urged everyone. "Range is hot!"

The following moment, the sound of multiple shots and shattering glass erupted on either side of Jenna and Sophia, making the little girl jump, startled. Jenna leaned down next to her, patting her back gently.

"It's alright," she soothed. "Why don't you give it a try?" she suggested, and Sophia's blue eyes looked up at her nervously. "It's okay, honey, you're gonna do just fine, I promise. Just line up the sights like I showed you," she instructed.

Sophia nodded, and raised the revolver slowly, aiming at the red glass bottle directly across from her, only to jump slightly at the sound of Patricia's shot at her left, and lowered the gun again.

"It's alright, honey, no one's gonna hit you," Jenna assured her. Sophia nodded again, steeling herself up, and aimed the revolver once more. "Are you lined up?"

"Yeah," Sophia answered timidly.

"Alright, when you're ready, just squeeze the trigger—don't jerk it," Jenna reminded her. "When it fires, it'll give a little kick, so don't let that scare you, alright?"

"Alright," Sophia repeated, sounding far from confident.

"Okay, go ahead when you're ready," said Jenna, taking a step back to make sure she was out of the way.

Sophia took a few moments to steady herself, and then pulled the trigger, missing the target by a margin. Jenna stepped forward and patted her shoulder gently.

"That's alright—you've got two more shots," she assured the child. "I missed on my first try too. Just line up and try again."

Sophia lined up her shot once more and pulled the trigger, a little less hesitantly that time since she knew what to expect now. The bullet lodged itself in the wood of the post. She focused, took in a deep breath, and proceeded to line up her shot for her final round. Letting out the breath in a steady stream, she pulled the trigger a third time, and the red bottle in front of her shattered.

She lowered the gun and turned to look back at Jenna, grinning widely.

"See? I told you you'd get the hang of it," Jenna told her, patting her shoulder. "Good job, honey."

With that, she sent the girl off to stand with her mother and wait for the others to finish up. She and Carl shared exuberant high-fives along the way before falling into enthusiastic conversation about the results of their first ever target practice.

Just as she was handing the Smith & Wesson off to Rick, who was collecting the guns when people finished with them, she caught sight of Carol, and realized that she was probably the only adult among them who hadn't fired a gun once in their life. Lori hadn't opted to join in on target practice, but hadn't Rick said that she knew how to shoot already? Something told Jenna that Ed would've never allowed Carol to even touch a gun, and she figured there was no time like the present to learn a new skill—particularly one that might end up saving her life. And two of Sophia's targets remained anyway. Might as well use them.

"Carol," she called, gaining the older woman's attention. "Wanna come give it a try?" she offered, jerking her head to beckon her over.

"Try it, mom!" Sophia urged eagerly. "I hit the target—you can too, I bet."

Dusty, who'd finished up her three shots already and was standing among them, smiled down at the little girl fondly and then nudged Carol with her elbow. "Go on," she encouraged. "What's it gonna hurt? You should know how to shoot anyway."

"Alright," Carol conceded, and made her way over to Jenna, leaving Dusty to stand with the kids.

Jenna took a sweeping glance across the tree line once more, checking for danger, and contented herself with the knowledge that there were plenty of people armed in the vicinity, and Dusty was armed with her hatchet, in any case.

Carol came to a stop at Jenna's side, looking almost as nervous as her daughter had been. "Here," said Jenna, handing over her own Beretta. "The safety's on," she assured her. "Before you shoot, line up the sights," she instructed, showing her how. "When you feel confident you have your shot lined up, pull the trigger." Carol nodded and aimed the gun.

Just as she was about to tell Carol to go for it, Jenna saw the placement of the woman's hands—she'd made the same mistake her first time, and was thankful that her instructor had saved her thumb the damage.

"Wait," she said to stop her before she tried to fire. "Move your thumb," she advised, so that Carol's finger wouldn't be broken by the slide when she pulled the trigger. "Alright, click the safety off when you're ready, and line up your shot."

Jenna took a step back and watched as Carol steadied herself, very similar to the way Sophia had before, and then did as she was instructed. Like her daughter, she missed the first shot, but with some gentle encouragement, she proceeded to line up her remaining two shots, and hit the target each time.

"Not so hard, huh?" Jenna asked, smiling, as she took her gun back from Carol. The woman smiled, radiating nothing but modesty.

"Nice work out there," Rick said to Jenna as she approached the Hyundai to replace her gun.

"Thanks," she said, and took a drink of water from his proffered bottle. "Sophia and Carol made it pretty easy for me, though."

"I was wonderin what you'd think about lettin Thao take a turn," he said as she handed the plastic bottle back to him. "Would that be somethin you're comfortable with?"

Jenna hesitated, not at all sure about that. "Um…I don't know…he's five."

Rick nodded, and then slipped into his ever effective negotiator persona. "I can see why you'd have your concerns, Jenna, I really do," he began in a reasoning tone. "But don't you think it'd be better if he at least knew how to handle 'em properly without hurtin himself, or anyone else? There's always gonna be guns in camp, an' it'd be best if he really knew to respect 'em."

Ugh, why did the man have to make so much sense? It would've been so much easier to turn down the offer if he didn't. And, she had to admit, letting Thao take a practice shot or two like everyone else would do a good job at keeping the curiosity factor out of the equation in the future, so he'd be less likely to be tempted. But still…he was five…

"Look, Shane's the best instructor I know," Rick continued, no doubt seeing that she was wavering. "He's taught plenty of kids before—kids close to Thao's age. I think it'd be good for 'im."

Oh, fuck. She was out of excuses.

"Alright," she agreed reluctantly, just in time for Shane to approach the car with the gun bag, seeing as everyone else had apparently wrapped up with the shooting lesson.

"I was just talkin to Jenna about havin you teach Thao to handle a gun," Rick explained at Shane's questioning expression.

Shane looked to her then. "'S long as you're alright with it?" he asked, waiting for her confirmation.

She nodded. "Yeah," she said, less than convincingly.

Shane gave her a smirk, and Rick laughed under his breath. "It took a little convincing, but she agreed," he assured his friend.

She rolled her eyes slightly. "It would be good for him to know how to handle them without hurting himself, if worse ever came to worse," she admitted, not exactly liking the idea of Thao being in a situation in which he was forced to defend himself that way.

It was decided that Thao would use the little .22 revolver that seldom left the gun bag, since they didn't exactly have a lot of ammo for it in the first place. Most of their handguns were .38s. But, it would be the best gun for a child Thao's size, under the circumstances. There was no way in hell he'd be shooting something like Rick's Colt anytime soon.

Before she knew it, she was standing back near Dusty, Sophia, Carol, and Lori while she watched Shane proceed to get Thao familiarized with the revolver. And it was all Jenna could do to keep herself from hovering at her boy's side, definitely not liking the idea of the gun in his small hands. She bit down on her lip when Shane explained to him just how careful he needed to be before he placed it carefully in the child's hand.

"When you take this, you hold it very carefully, point it down at the ground, and keep your finger out like this, see?" Shane instructed, showing him to keep his index finger off the trigger, and Thao nodded attentively. "Alright, bud, here ya go."

Shane handed Thao the small revolver carefully, and Thao held it in both hands, being sure to keep it pointed at the ground with his fingers off the trigger.

Thankfully, that little shooting lesson was over in a matter of ten or so minutes, after Thao had successfully fired three shots without anything chaotic happening. Jenna was finally able to relax out of her tense posture when the gun was removed from his hands and he ran up to her side jubilantly.

"Did you see me, mama? Did you see me?" he asked eagerly, clinging to her jeans.

"I sure did, buddy," she replied, grinning down at him, thinking how she hadn't been able to look anywhere else but directly at him the whole time. "You did very good," she praised, ruffling his hair and kissing his head.

"Good job, big guy," Dusty complimented, giving him a high-five. "That was some real good shootin."

A light blush bloomed in his little cheeks. "Thanks," he said a little bashfully, running his fingers under his nose in a quick, familiar gesture, ever the accomplished mimicker. Jenna had never been able to break herself out of that habit, and she wondered if Thao was in for the same fate.

It was decided that Andrea was going to stay back with Shane for more advanced lessons while the rest of them returned to camp, and Jenna couldn't say that she was surprised, really. She'd seen the woman hit a practical bull's-eye from twenty-five feet with her Ladysmith. And though she hated to admit it because she still considered it a stupidly risky shot to have made, that shot with Daryl yesterday had been remarkably close—just a margin away from a headshot with the sun blocking her view.

Jenna and Dusty hopped into the back of the Ford since Shane and Andrea would be needing the Hyundai to get back, and the Cherokee was already pretty full. Jenna settled Thao carefully in her lap before they got moving, and she and Dusty giggled a bit at how exciting he found that particular car ride. First an unexpected shooting lesson and now a ride in the back of the truck? This was probably the most fun he'd had in a long, long while.

* * *

"They're _big_," Thao observed, very impressed, from where he sat upon Jenna's shoulders in the stable, looking at the horses in their stalls.

"Yeah, they sure are," Jenna agreed, reaching out and petting the pretty sienna-colored horse through the stall, a little hesitantly at first. She'd never actually seen a horse up close before, but Maggie had given her permission to bring Thao in to see them, as long as they locked up when they were done.

If she wasn't mistaken, this was Nervous Nelly, who Daryl had taken without permission the day before. Apparently, she'd found her way home. Jenna wondered if horses were like big dogs that way—or maybe cats would've been a better comparison. Cats seemed to find their way home more often than dogs. Or maybe she was just way off the mark either way. She knew next to nothing about horses, and just taking in their size, she wasn't so sure she'd ever want to try riding one.

"Can we go in there with her?" Thao asked as he leaned forward to give Nelly a pat on the head.

_Nope. _"I don't think that would be a good idea, buddy," she declined lightly, giving his knee a pat. "They probably wouldn't like that very much. And remember what Shane said? When horses get mad, they kick. And I bet that would hurt _really_ bad."

"Oh," he said thoughtfully, taking in the horse in a new light. "Do they bite too?"

"I don't know," she answered truthfully. _Did_ horses bite? Their teeth weren't sharp, but she could only imagine how much that would hurt.

"There's stuff you don't know?" Thao asked, as though that concept had never even crossed his mind.

Jenna laughed lightly, and heard Dusty doing the same across the stable, where she was feeding handfuls of hay to another horse. "There sure is, buddy. I learn new things every day," she assured him.

He thought that over for a moment while they moved down the stall to pay some attention to another horse. "How come you know more stuff than me?"

"Because I'm older than you," she answered, offering up a handful of hay to the dark, cola-colored horse, being sure to keep her hand flat so her fingers didn't get in the way. "I've had more time to learn things. Eventually, you'll know as many things as I do," she promised.

After Thao had had his fill of visiting the horses, they exited the stable, and Jenna set her boy down on his feet so she could lock up—and so she could give her shoulders a break. He was getting heavier, slowly but surely, but she was grateful for that. She took it as a good indicator that he wasn't lacking in nutrition, which had been a constant fear for her. If she was half-starved, it was one thing; she was an adult and no longer relied on constant nutrition for the sake of proper development. If _Thao_ was half-starved…she didn't even want to consider it.

The smell was what tipped her off first, even before the telltale sounds of shuffling, uneven footsteps and raspy, guttural growling. That smell of decomposing flesh and putrid blood, which you could never, ever forget.

She and Dusty spun around in near unison, gasping slightly at the appearance of the three walkers that were lumbering around the side of the stable, clawing at the wooden structure with their whittled fingers. They didn't seem to have noticed them—yet—but they had obviously noticed the horses. From the looks of the one with gore-soaked overalls, it hadn't been very long since they'd last eaten. Still, no matter how much flesh they devoured, they always wanted more. Jenna had often wondered if it was really hunger they were driven by, or just some ceaseless primal urge to consume.

She looked over her shoulder briefly, assessing that the yard was safe and clear. "Thao, go straight to camp, right now," she told him in a low voice, pointing to the RV, where some of the others were situated around. "Go, buddy. Now."

He nodded and took off at a sprint, making a b-line for camp, as instructed. Without further ado, Jenna released the machete from her belt at the same time Dusty freed her hatchet.

"They're too close together," Dusty mused, observing the walkers closely.

Jenna nodded in agreement. "Let's get them walking—they might spread out then," she suggested, taking a few strides backward to put some distance between them and the rotting, mobile corpses.

Dusty moved with her, and Jenna whistled sharply to get their attention. Three gray, mangled, gore-stained faces turned to look in their direction, and then they stumbled away from the stable, heading instead for the fresh meat that was out in the open. Jenna and Dusty split up, in the hopes of bringing them in different directions. The one in the bloody overalls headed for Jenna, while another chose to go after Dusty. The third, who was lagging behind a bit, didn't seem to have made up its mind yet.

Jenna stepped around in an arch as the walker drew nearer, bone-tipped fingers reaching for her, and took a wide swing to gain momentum before she sent her machete cracking through the thing's skull. It was a pretty big walker, and she didn't want to risk the chance of the blade not breaking through.

She yanked the blade free as the body collapsed in a heap at her feet, and looked up in time to see Dusty's walker buckle a second later.

In the meantime, the straggler seemed to have made up its mind and started shuffling closer to Dusty. Jenna whistled to get its attention, and as soon as it turned its head around, distracted, Dusty swung the hatchet out again, severing the spinal cord at the base of the skull. It tumbled to the ground over the top of the other, and Dusty took a stride backward to be well away from the rotting mass of flesh before her.

Jenna didn't blame her. Those things smelled like death—no pun intended.

She turned her head at the sound of approaching footsteps to see T-Dog, Glenn, Maggie, and Hershel heading their way, the former of the two with weapons in hand, just in case.

"Where the hell did they come from?" T-Dog wondered, frowning. "Been here for weeks, and we haven't seen any walkers wanderin around."

Dusty shrugged. "Dunno. Just came out from around the stable. They were goin for the horses."

"I thought I made myself clear," Hershel said then, glaring between Jenna and Dusty accusingly. "I don't want anyone walkin 'round my farm with weapons."

Dusty just looked back at him with a look caught somewhere between annoyance and puzzlement, seeming as perplexed as Jenna was. Why was the old man so pissed off? All they'd done was take down a few walkers—maybe even kept his horses from being chewed on, too. So what the hell was he glaring at them like that for?

"Not to mince words or anything," Jenna began carefully, frowning at the old man, "but you told us you didn't want us carrying guns."

"I think it should've been obvious that I meant any weapons, ma'am," he shot back, eying her bloodied machete with obvious distaste. "You have your man up on watch," he added, nodding his head toward the RV, where Dale sat perched in his lookout spot. "That should be enough for ya."

"So, you're sayin you'd rather have us walkin around without any sort of protection for ourselves," said Dusty, scowling back at him.

"I'm sayin I thought I made myself clear," he snapped angrily, making Maggie cringe a bit behind him. "This is my farm. An' from now on, I'm the one who handles these things. I thought Rick told y'all that already, but I guess I was mistaken."

Jenna noticed then that Rick wasn't among them, as he usually would've been. She scanned her eyes around the camp briefly, not seeing him, or Lori, anywhere.

"Do I make myself clear now?" Hershel asked, glaring between Jenna and Dusty again for good measure.

Not about to start a debate with their already reluctant host, Jenna bit her tongue and nodded, holding the old man's gaze for a long moment. He stormed off then, heading back in the direction of his house, and Jenna watched him go, trying to make sense of things. She'd thought that the man merely didn't want his home overrun by gun-toting squatters, but she and Dusty hadn't killed the walkers with guns.

For whatever reason, Hershel didn't seem to want _them_ killing walkers at all. But why would it matter who killed them, so long as they were taken care of?

* * *

Jenna pulled her bandana down from where it'd been covering her mouth and nose as she hopped into the cab of the Ford next to Glenn and T-Dog. They'd brought the bodies up to a vacant spot a ways away from the yard, to burn them where they'd burned the remains of the walker from the well weeks ago. Now that they'd been burned out and the fire was extinguished, it was time to head back to camp, where Jenna was looking forward to changing out of her clothes. She smelled like smoke, and other, more grisly things that she didn't want to think about.

T-Dog parked the truck at the side of the house with the rest of the Greene family vehicles, and Jenna slid out of the seat quickly to let Glenn do the same before making her way toward her tent. She noticed that Shane and Andrea had apparently returned, and judging from the way Andrea stormed into the RV, the woman was in a poor mood.

"Target practice not go so well?" she asked Shane with a raised brow when he passed her, gun bag in hand, apparently off to strip and clean the firearms once again.

Shane looked back at the closed door of the RV and ran a hand over the five o'clock shadow on his face. "Naw, she's a good shot," he replied, though it was obvious that there was more to his answer than that. "Guess I crossed a line out there, or somethin," he explained vaguely.

Jenna quirked a brow again as they walked toward the vacant picnic table. "Crossed a line?" she repeated quizzically. "What, did you tell her she shoots like a girl?"

He rolled his eyes as he set the gun bag down on the table, and took a seat. "Naw…well, yeah, I did, but that ain't it." When he saw that Jenna was still waiting for an explanation, he heaved an exasperated sigh. "I 's tryna get 'er rattled. She needed some kinda motivation, so I was…badgering her. That's what she called it. I brought Amy into it."

Jenna cringed a bit then, understanding now. "Damn," she breathed. "Really did cross a line." She wouldn't lie and say that she particularly liked Andrea, but that was harsh.

He rolled his eyes, though it was obvious that he felt bad. "Yeah, I know. I'm an asshole," he muttered. "Let's move on."

She smirked a little. "I wouldn't say you're an _asshole_," she assured him, "but you're definitely a hothead. We've been over that enough times, though."

"Yeah, that's right—an' you're so calm," he shot back jokingly.

She snorted slightly. "Shit, compared to you, I've got the patience of a saint."

He laughed outright at that, pulling cleaning equipment from the bag. "Yeah, alright," he said sarcastically. "Since you're so _saint-like_, you mind helpin me out here?" he asked, gesturing to the array of guns waiting to be cleaned.

"Normally, I'd say yes to that, but I've gotta go change," she replied, looking down at her clothes and pinching the hem of her shirt between her fingers. "I smell like smoke…and dead things."

He sniggered a bit. "Yeah, I saw the smoke while we were headin back," he said. "What happened?"

"A couple walkers were trying to get to the horses," Jenna explained with a shrug, omitting the bizarre anger from Hershel, because she still hadn't gotten her own head wrapped around it yet. "First walkers we've had here."

"Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later," he said easily, apparently untroubled by this news. "'S long as we always got someone on watch, we should be fine."

"True," she agreed. "Anyway, if you want help cleaning all those, you could ask Andrea," she suggested. At his look of bewilderment, she smirked slightly and shrugged. "Hey, it might be your only chance to make up with her," she pointed out. "She seemed more than willing to help last time," she reminded him.

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, alright," he agreed reluctantly. "Don't suppose you can go an' relay that message for me?" he asked with a smirk.

"Yeah, no thanks," she said with a laugh. "I get the feeling any message coming from _me_ would be counterproductive at this point."

He chuckled lightly as she walked away, heading for her tent to change out of her foul-smelling clothes. Slipping into the heavy cargo pants and donning a gray t-shirt, she felt at least somewhat cleaner. Maybe she was just imagining it, but she couldn't seem to rid herself of the stench of smoke and death. Would Hershel let her inside for a shower, or had she lost that privilege?

Exiting the tent, she dropped her dirty clothes into the little basket she and Dusty kept near the door for such things, and moved to go and join Thao where he sat near the fire pit, racing his cherished cars in the dirt. She settled down next to him and drew a little race track in the dirt with a stick while Carol and T-Dog worked together to prepare dinner for everyone; vegetable handouts from Patricia, and some sort of meat Jenna couldn't immediately identify. Whatever it was, it smelled pretty good.

She didn't see Dusty anywhere, and wondered vaguely if she was paying Daryl a visit. Since she wasn't spending time with Sophia, that was Jenna's first guess.

Her eyes wandered, and of course, it wasn't long before they located Shane, who'd apparently successfully coaxed Andrea into helping him clean the guns. She wasn't sure what exactly it was that was going on with her when it came to Shane, but it was annoying the hell out of her. They'd been friends for a while—good friends at that—so why did she have to go and mess things up now? Because lately, he didn't feel much like a _friend_ anymore, and she had serious doubts as to whether they'd be the best option for each other. They were both so…broken, in a way. Haunted. The last thing they needed was to _combine_ their demons.

Fuck. This was just another reason to wish for Danny. He would've been able to help her make sense of the confused tangle of thoughts and emotions in her head.

Frustrating thoughts notwithstanding, Jenna couldn't deny that she was supremely grateful Shane hadn't taken off on his own. For both his sake and hers. She didn't know where she would've been had he not been there for her these past few weeks, but she had an idea where _he_ might've been, out there on his own. And that was not a place _anyone_ should have to be.

She wasn't sure about a lot these days, but she could at least count on one thing; Shane understood her demons. And that was invaluable.

* * *

**Note: **

Wow, thank you so much for the feedback! I can't explain how much I appreciate it, really. Based on your reviews, the general consensus seems to be to speed things up with Shane and Jenna. I realize now that waiting so long must be very frustrating, and I apologize. So, I've decided to make it happen sooner than I intended. It won't be _very_ soon, several more chapters (I'll let you know when to expect it, I promise), but it won't be as far off as I'd originally planned.

A couple of you had questions that I wanted to answer (without giving away anything vital). **Endless Questions:** No, not much has been revealed about Mackenzie yet, but more will be explained in later chapters. **LunaraWolf:** Wow, I'm actually embarrassed that I didn't think of that before you mentioned it, lol. I do have something planned, but that would be a great idea. And who knows? I might actually use that. Thanks for suggesting it!

Thank you for the reviews, everyone! Keep it up, please, I appreciate hearing your opinions.

**P.S.:** Sorry for the wait, I wasn't really sure what exactly I wanted to do with this chapter for a while. But I wanted to make sure to get this out today, because I'll be camping for a week starting tomorrow, so it'll be a little while before my next update.


	43. Rude Awakening

**Disclaimer: I am not the owner of The Walking Dead, no copyright intended, blah, blah, blah...you know the drill. **

**Warning: **Rated M for language, gore, and eventual smut.

Kind of hate to quote Nixon, but...

* * *

_"The man of thought who will not act is ineffective; the man of action who will not think is dangerous."_

_—Richard M. Nixon_

* * *

Rude Awakening

_JPOV_

Jenna nodded a thanks at Carol, who handed her a glass of water, and took a welcome drink. Breakfast was more of a treat than it had been for the past few days, since Maggie had given them some eggs that morning. So along with their usual fire pit-cooked squirrel meat, they each had a portion of scrambled eggs to enjoy.

"Eat up," she urged Thao gently, ruffling his hair from where he sat against her legs on the grass under the shade of the trees. He'd been picking at his food for the past five minutes.

"Okay," he conceded, scooping a bite into his mouth.

"Might wanna take your own advice," muttered Daryl lowly at her left from where he sat in a lawn chair close to the log she, Dusty, and Sophia had settled themselves onto. "Come fall, you're gonna be flyin away along with the leaves."

She and Dusty snorted with laughter. "I've been a beanpole all my life, man," she told him. "Don't see that changing anytime soon."

She was just glad she wasn't as dangerously thin as she had been before. Actually, she'd managed to get some much needed padding back on her body by the time she made it to Atlanta with Thao. After finding him, the top priority had been to keep him safe and fed, rather than how many miles she could travel before she couldn't physically go any longer. She'd learned quickly that looking after Thao also meant she had to look after herself, and as a result, she'd grown healthier again.

"Me too," Sophia piped up. "My aunt Darlene used to call me 'String Bean.'"

Jenna laughed lightly along with the little girl. "Yeah? You might be lucky enough to grow out of it, though," she said, giving her a wink.

They settled back down, and breakfast resumed. It was a quiet affair that day, each of them seeming to be lost in their own musings. Conversation was light and minimal. Rick was staring off into the distance, a faraway look in his eyes, and Jenna noticed that he didn't seem to have gotten much sleep the night before, judging by the dark circles. Hell, he looked like he'd aged ten years overnight, and she wondered what was wrong with him. Dale, who was normally talkative and chipper in the morning, was oddly silent, sitting back and picking at his eggs from where he sat in another foldout chair beneath the awning of the RV. Glenn looked just as fidgety and anxious as he did the day before, and Jenna was seriously starting to get a little concerned for him. Most of the others just seemed to still be shaking off the dregs of sleep.

In the corner of her eye, Jenna noticed Dale nod discreetly, and she shifted her eyes over to follow his gaze, seeing Glenn. Glenn nodded back once, and then got to his feet.

"Um…guys…" he began nervously as he approached the misshaped gathering around the fire pit.

Everyone looked up at him, only mildly interested in what he had to say. With another encouraging nod from Dale, he spoke again.

"So…" He paused and pulled the hat off his head, wringing it in both hands nervously. "The barn's full of walkers."

Jenna could practically feel the sudden jolt that sparked through all of them in the same moment, waking them up instantly. She spun her head around to peer over her left shoulder at the large old barn in the distance, seeing it in a whole new light. It was no longer just a timeless, scenic figure in the landscape. Now, suddenly, it seemed to have a grim, sepulchral feeling to it. Just as well, considering it housed death.

The others roused immediately, demanding Glenn to tell them everything he knew. Seeing that this was going to come to a boiling point fairly quickly, Jenna pulled Thao away from the camp's center and into their tent.

"Just stay inside until I get back, alright?" she encouraged. "Read your comics."

"Is everything okay?" he asked.

"Everything's okay," she assured him, and truthfully, she meant it. She kissed his hair and patted his shoulder. "We've just gotta go and check something out for a minute. Stay inside, and I'll be back."

"Yes, mama," he said, and she kissed his hair once more before exiting the tent and zipping it closed behind her.

She caught up to the others, who had all began to make their way over to the barn in what Jenna was reluctant to call a decidedly angry mob-like manner. This was _definitely_ going to come to a boiling point.

Shane urged everyone to stay back when they reached the barn. He stepped forward, approaching the chained and padlocked doors cautiously, and peered through a gap in the aged planks. The rest of them waited with baited breath as he continued to look through the gap, and Jenna wondered exactly how many walkers were inside.

She assumed the prognosis wasn't good when he turned around, murder in his eyes, and stormed back over toward them, looking more furious than Jenna had ever seen him.

"You can_not_ tell me you're alright with this," he growled to Rick as he came to stand at his friend's side.

"No I'm not," said Rick, looking at the barn with a similar expression, "but we're guests here. This isn't our land," he reminded Shane.

Shane spat at the ground in frustration. "For the love of God—this is our _lives_, man!"

"Lower your voice," Lori chastised him in an angry hiss.

Jenna gave the older woman a sardonic glare. "For what? What the hell does it matter if they hear us or not? They can't exactly do anything about it, can they?" she finished, nodding at the chained doors of the barn.

Normally, she would've kept her mouth shut, but these days, she was always quick to back Shane up, whether he needed it or not.

"We can't just sweep this under the rug," said Andrea with a scoff.

"It ain't right, not remotely," T-Dog concurred.

They were all starting to panic, and Jenna knew this was going to end badly. But why in the world would Hershel be keeping walkers in the barn in the first place? That was just…twisted. She'd heard of people doing a lot of unusual things, reacting to this chaotic new world in a lot of strange ways, but this was not something she'd encountered before. This was a whole new level of bizarre. But, it did begin to explain his anger from the day before…

She'd misunderstood when he'd said that he didn't want them killing the walkers on his property. It wasn't that he didn't want _them_ killing the walkers—he just didn't want them to be killed, period.

Shane's mind was obviously set. "Rick, we jus' gotta go in there an' make things right—"

"We are _not_ goin in there," said Rick just as decisively.

"_Why_, Rick?" Shane demanded angrily. "Gimmie one damn good reason why we shouldn't—"

"This is not your call!" Rick shot back.

Either those words or the rough shove that Rick gave Shane's shoulder turned out to be the match that ignited the gasoline that had already been spilled all over the highly combustible atmosphere. Instinctively, Jenna and Dusty moved back out and of the way at the same time Carol and Lori did the same with Carl and Sophia. Not even a full moment later were Shane and Rick going at each other, with T-Dog, Glenn, and Daryl struggling to keep them apart.

"Rick!" Lori scolded, moving forward and pulling on her husband's arm.

It took a bit of work, but with considerable effort, Shane and Rick were separated, shaking out of the hold the others had on them, and glaring back at each other, fuming.

"Jus' let me talk to Hershel," Rick demanded of Shane then. "Let me figure it out!"

"Man, what're you gonna figure out?" Shane yelled back.

The two of them began striding toward each other again, and Jenna sidestepped to the left, blocking Shane's path while Lori pulled Rick back by the arm again. When Shane moved to get around her, Jenna sidestepped him again, pushing him back with her arm and shoulder, bracing herself with her legs the best that she could. Thankfully, he stilled on his own, for it would have been an easy matter for him to just move her out of his way.

"If we're gonna stay, if we're gonna clear this barn, I have to talk to Hershel," Rick insisted when they'd both been separated again. "I have to talk 'im into it. This is _his_ land!"

Shane spat angrily again, but didn't seem to be about to lunge at Rick a third time, so Jenna relaxed her stance and stepped forward, releasing him from her miniature blockade. She wondered vaguely why he hadn't just moved her out of his way—it would've taken little to no effort from him—but she was just glad he hadn't.

"Hershel sees those things in there as _people_," said Dale to all of them, speaking before another argument could ensue. "Sick people. His _wife_, his—his _stepson_ are in—"

Just as Jenna's heart began to sink, Rick cut him off.

"You _knew_?" he demanded bewilderedly.

"Yesterday, I talked to Hershel," Dale replied unabashedly, not backing down.

"An' you waited the night?" Shane asked threateningly, the tone of his voice making Jenna prepare to move in front of him again to protect the old man if the need presented itself.

As if Shane needed to provoke Dale even further at this point.

"I thought we could survive one more night," Dale shot back sharply, glaring at Shane. "We _did_."

Rick looked incredulous, and Shane paced around in anger again. Jenna decided to come to Dale's defense, seeing that they seemed to be on the same page, and he was practically standing alone amongst the wolves, so to speak.

"He's not wrong," she said simply, looking at Rick, who stood ahead of her. "They've been in there the whole time, and this is the first we've heard of it."

Rick seemed to be about to say something in response, but Dale beat him to the punch.

"I was waiting until the morning to say somethin, but Glenn wanted to be the one to do it," Dale explained to Rick, his tone firm and scolding.

"Man, it was crazy, waitin," spat Shane, building up a head of steam again as he stepped over to Rick. "If Hershel thinks those things are alive in there—"

"Enough!" shot Rick, putting a hand in Shane's face.

In that moment, pounding could be heard from inside the barn, and everyone's attention was immediately snagged by the rocking doors. Guttural snarling accompanied the noise, and nearly every one of them leapt backward in fright, as though the doors would burst open at any moment, unleashing a torrent of the undead.

Jenna let out an exasperated sigh, throwing her head back and running a hand through her hair while Dusty, who remained beside her and just looked back at the others with a raised brow. Half of the group was blinded by fear. Shane, well…he was blinded by _rage_, apparently. The point was, they wouldn't take a moment to pause long enough to think things through, and were feeding off each other's anxiety.

_Mob mentality_, she thought wryly. All the reasons she'd compiled against traveling in a group came flooding back to her. Groups of people did not respond to fear well, whereas an individual could. But, that was definitely not a new discovery. How many times had the course of human history demonstrated that, more often than not, where individuals succeeded, groups failed—and vise-versa? Some things were better suited to groups, whereas some things were better off in the hands of an individual. Moments of high tension and panic…that was definitely an individual's playing field. Unfortunately for them, things hadn't worked out that way.

She looked from the frightened group who'd sped backward, and back to the still rattling doors thirty feet away. Even if those walkers did manage to bust through the chains and board that held the doors closed, all they would have to do was run. Outrunning walkers was incredibly easy when you had a safe place to run to, which was rare, but the Greene farm was very open and spacious. It wouldn't take much work to pick off the walkers when they were spread out, if everyone could just stop panicking and think rationally.

At least Dusty seemed to be more than capable of doing so, though she too was staring at the barn with distaste. She wasn't panic-stricken like some of the others, though, so there was that.

Looking over at the men, none of whom had retreated backward, she saw that all of them were looking back at the barn with different levels of anxiety. Glenn, T-Dog, and Dale looked the most nervous, while Shane, Rick, and Daryl just looked disgusted.

She sighed again, shaking her head, and turned to make her way back to camp, assuming that Thao was probably getting worried.

Rick and Shane could fight over this one for all she cared. She didn't see this as such an extreme threat, so she didn't want to get pulled into a conflict over it. Sure, there were a few concerns she had, but none of them were terribly pressing in her opinion. Maybe she'd have a talk with Hershel later, if he'd be willing. Maybe he and Rick, the negotiator extraordinaire, could come up with something that would keep everyone satisfied.

The morning had only just begun, and she was already in a poor mood, and it had very little to do with the walkers in the barn—but it had very much to do with the fact that she and Shane were far from agreement in this instance, for the first time in a long time.

* * *

Jenna sat under the shade of the trees on the fringes of their little campsite with Thao sitting beside her, the stump Lori sometimes used as a cutting board serving as a makeshift table for him while he practiced copying the letters of the alphabet. Now that they were more or less permanently situated, she thought it would be a good idea to start teaching him to write. He was getting the hang of reading pretty well, so she was confident that he'd be able to master writing in due time. He'd conquered capital letters, and was now working on their lower-case counterparts.

Glenn approached camp, his head hanging down, baseball cap in his hand as he trudged along, looking thoroughly displeased.

"Man, what happened to you?" she asked, humor in her voice, when she saw that his hair was dripping with yellow gunk that she assumed to be raw egg yolk.

"Maggie," he said a bit hesitantly.

She nodded, understanding now, and stood up. "Stay here a minute," she told Thao. "I'm gonna give Glenn a hand."

"Okay," he replied, and she ruffled his hair.

She walked with Glenn over to the RV and grabbed a rag hanging from the back of a nearby fold-out chair. "Here, lean forward," she said, grabbing a bottle of water. When he obliged, she poured some of the water over his hair, the excess spilling onto the ground between them. "She must've been mad at you to waste an egg like that," Jenna mused aloud, wiping the remnants of said egg from his hair.

He straightened up when she'd cleaned most of it out, and she handed him the rag. "She asked me not to tell anyone about the barn," he said eventually.

Jenna nodded, understanding, and gave him a sympathetic smile. "You did what you thought was right—you made a call to keep the rest of us safe," she assured him. "No one can blame you for that."

He nodded slowly, contemplating. "Do you think it was the right call? Telling everyone?"

She shrugged. "Yes and no," she said honestly. "It's good that we all know, I'm not disputing that, but I probably would've just told Rick."

He frowned, puzzled. "Not Shane?"

She smirked ruefully. "We're usually on the same page, but he is a hothead," she said admittedly. "When he thinks lives are on the line, he just wants to act and act fast."

He seemed to consider that a moment before running a hand through his partially wet, but thankfully clean, hair. "I think I might've just done more harm than good, to be honest…" he mumbled.

She shrugged and patted his shoulder reassuringly. "They're just scared, that's all," she said. "If Rick can figure things out with Hershel, then things will be okay."

"Why aren't you scared?" he asked then, seeming perplexed. "Everyone's either scared or pissed off, but you're neither."

"I'm not convinced that we have such a big reason to be scared. The barn seems secure enough to me," she said with another shrug, then she considered something. "How many walkers would you say were in there?" she questioned.

"I dunno, I didn't really get a good look," he said. "I got outta there pretty fast."

She nodded, coming to a decision. Then she turned her attention back to Glenn, who was looking down at her in puzzlement. "You know, I bet if you talked to Maggie, explained yourself, she'd understand. She's pissed, but if you just tell her why you let us know about the barn, she'll know you did what you thought was best, for good reasons."

He let out a breath of laughter, looking doubtful. "Even _if_ she listens to me…" he trailed off, shaking his head.

She smirked. "You'll never know unless you try—again," she told him.

She gave him another clap on the shoulder and made her way toward the tent to retrieve her machete. Now that Glenn was good and distracted by thoughts of Maggie, it was time to do a little investigating.

* * *

_SPOV_

Shane sat leaning back against the ancient, rusted out tractor, staring at the back of the barn with the deepest sense of loathing he could recall feeling for quite some time. And he did _not_ want to recall the last instance he'd felt this level of loathing.

That damn barn had never looked so ominous, and he'd never felt so frustrated by not having his gun on him.

He didn't give a damn what Hershel believed—the dead were dangerous, no matter who they had once been. Yes, he felt sympathy for the old man, considering his own family members were in the barn, rotting away, but that didn't make those things less of a danger. His wife and stepson were dead, and that needed to be dealt with—in the right way. Leaving them to rot in that barn was for damn sure _not_ the right way. And he didn't understand why Rick couldn't just agree with him, now of all times. They had people to protect. They had three kids to worry about, and scared women. There was one surefire way to eliminate this threat, and he could not understand why Rick wouldn't see that. It was too late for Hershel's wife and stepson, but it wasn't too late for the rest of them.

A flash of blue caught his eye, and his heart rocketed to the pit of his stomach when he saw Jenna coming out from inside the barn, standing up on the platform above the door. He was standing up straight again and striding toward the barn in the next instant, while she merely looked a little surprised to see him there.

"What the hell you doin?" he demanded as he approached.

She moved over to the ladder on the side, looking thoroughly untroubled, and he took that as a good indicator that she hadn't been hurt. "Glenn said he wasn't sure how many were in there," she said simply as she began climbing her way down, as though that should've been explanation enough.

"Girl, you crazy?" he asked, pulling her away from the doors of the barn as soon as she was within reach, before she'd even gotten off the ladder.

"Will you let go of me?" she griped, pulling at the arm he had wrapped around her middle while he half-carried her away from the barn. He obliged, deeming her to be a safe enough distance away, and she looked up at him with some mild annoyance. "I was heading this way on my own, thanks—no need to manhandle me."

He might have laughed, if she hadn't just damn near given him a heart attack. In the back of his mind, however, he registered that if he'd grabbed her like that just a month ago, she would have been sure to react violently.

"Jenna, you outta your damn mind, goin in there alone?" he asked intently. "What if somethin happened an' no one knew you were in there?"

She gave him a long look, her expression clearly stating _don't be an idiot_, before voicing an answer. "Dusty knows where I am—who do you think's keeping an eye on Thao?" she said dryly. "I also asked her not to share that with anyone, because I figured they'd react _this_ way," she added pointedly.

"You think _I'm_ the one reactin badly?" he countered.

She shrugged slightly, not backing down but not advancing either—neutral. "You are a bit of a hothead," she reminded him.

He nodded. "Yeah, I acknowledge that," he admitted unabashedly, then he looked back toward the barn, that sense of bitter loathing creeping up on him again. "How many'd ya see in there, anyway?"

She followed his gaze, hands on her hips over the belt that held up the tattered, faded blue jeans Dusty had given her. The only feminine article of clothing she seemed to have, he'd noted.

"I couldn't say for sure," she replied. "Maybe twenty, give or take a few. More than I was hoping for, anyway," she added, her small fingers tugging lightly at a snag in the hem of the blue flannel shirt she'd picked up from the highway.

"More 'n you were _hopin_ for?" he repeated, bewildered.

She shrugged, not having looked back at him yet, her eyes still settled on the barn. "Just makes things more problematic if Hershel keeps adding more. You've gotta wonder how long he'll be able to keep putting more in there before it gets too full to keep them from getting through the door."

"You tellin me you're alright with this?" he asked in disbelief.

Her jade eyes turned up to him then. "Honestly, I don't see a reason to lose my shit," she said bluntly. "They're not getting out of that barn on their own."

"You kiddin me?" he demanded, silently begging her to see reason. She normally did, much more than he did, anyway. Why was she failing him now, of all times? "We're camped out practically right next to this damn barn. You really want these things that close to where you sleep at night? To where _Thao_ sleeps?"

She rolled her eyes and breathed out a bit of dry laughter, leaving him completely bemused.

"What, do you think I'm gonna let him wander up here by himself and stick his fingers through the planks?" she asked flatly. "Climb back out of my throat, man."

He leaned back, realizing that he'd been leaning closer to her without meaning to, invading her space. He hadn't meant to take her head off, as he was apparently doing, but for the love of God, couldn't she see there was a problem here?

He decided to change tack. "You can't tell me this ain't jus' wrong," he insisted. "If that was your family, would you ever leave 'em like that?" he asked, knowing the answer already, but trying to prove a point.

"Fuck no," she answered bluntly. "I'd never let anyone I love rot away slowly like that. But this isn't my family, and this isn't my decision."

Well, that didn't exactly work the way he'd hoped. He tried again, persistent. "You gotta know that this ain't right. This is _dangerous_."

She gave a little half-shrug. "Maybe," she said, her voice sincere. "But the way I see it, we're in no more danger here than we have been so far. The only thing that's changed from yesterday to today is that now we know about it."

"An' the way I see it, we need to do somethin 'bout it," he maintained.

"As long as it's nothing that'll get us kicked out," she qualified.

That was right, she liked it here, and in all honesty, he couldn't blame her. It was peaceful here. Thao could run around the yard without living under the constant threat of being grabbed and torn apart. They had access to fresh water, and food. They could make a life here—a relatively comfortable life, at that. But all of that was tossed out the window if things weren't as safe as they'd thought.

"You ain't up to tryin our luck somewhere else, I gather," he noted, running a hand through his hair.

She shook her head, leaning against the tractor, and locked her eyes with his, jade green to warm brown. "We can be happy here."

Even though for one wild moment he could have sworn she'd been talking about the two of them, he knew she'd been referring to herself and Thao. _Man, this little woman's gettin into my head, _he thought in exasperation.

"That's funny, comin from you," he said after a moment, leaning back against the tractor next to her and turning his gaze back to the barn—it was easier to think clearly that way.

"Oh yeah?" she asked. "Why's that?"

"Ain't you always the one ready to take off on your own anyway?" he challenged.

She breathed out another dry laugh, and he chanced a glance down at her to see she had her gaze down at her shoes apparently, her legs crossed lazily at the ankles.

"Call me pessimistic, but I don't see us finding anywhere as great as this," she said in a wry tone. "Like I said, we can be happy here. I'd like for us to be able to enjoy this for as long as we can. Thao can have _good_ memories here, at least…something happy to hold onto…"

That drove a bit of a wrench in Shane's gut. This place was as good as they were likely to get, and the last thing he wanted was for them to be forced away. He'd never be able to look Jenna or Thao in the eye again if that were to happen. But things weren't safe here, like she thought. He wanted her to be able to be happy here with her boy, but if they weren't safe, it was all for nothing.

She breathed out a sigh, and ran a hand through her wild hair in that messy motion of hers, letting her head fall back as she leaned back against the tractor on her elbows, eyes closed against the noon sun.

He could not deny that she was attractive. What had she called herself that morning? A beanpole? Shane couldn't say that he agreed. She was slim, that was for sure, but it matched her overall stature, considering how short she was. There was a subtle curvature to her body that he'd noticed. And now that she was so close, barely a few inches away, he couldn't ignore exactly how aware of it he was.

God, what was this little woman doing to him? First it had all been simple enough. Innocent enough. The only thing he was drawn to was her personality. She was tough, not afraid to break a nail, mess up her hair, get dirt on her clothes, or put a machete through a walker's head. She was smart, intuitive, and quick on her feet. She never backed down out of fear, and was quick to defend the others with no thought for herself, though he couldn't deny that she had a tendency to act rashly in that sense. She was capable of making hard decisions—the _hardest_ decisions. She knew how to handle herself in a tight spot. Having a conversation with her was as easy and natural as breathing. Hell, she was just the easiest kind of person for someone like him to get along with, really.

_And young, don't forget young,_ he reminded himself. Yes, she was young. A little too young, admittedly, for him to be attracted to her the way he was. Dale was wrong about a lot of things, but he was right about that. Ten years was quite a gap.

But the truth was, he didn't see Jenna the same way he'd seen other women all his life. If he was being completely honest with himself, she was the type of girl he'd have liked to settle down with, if he was a little younger, and if the world had just remained the way it was supposed to be instead of going to shit.

But that wasn't an option these days. The world _did_ go to shit, and he had to just accept that and move on. He could be Jenna's friend, and he'd be happy with that. That had been good enough for him so far, right? And it seemed to be good enough for her.

He ran a hand over his face, composing himself. "You said there was about twenty of 'em in there?" he asked.

She nodded, not opening her eyes or straightening up—he both wished she would and hoped she didn't. "Give or take a few," she reminded him.

"No chance of goin in there an' takin 'em down quietly, huh?" he assumed, glancing down at her machete tied to her belt.

"Nope," she said with a sigh, and opened her eyes before straightening back up a little, the chain around her neck shifting with the movement. He didn't let his eyes follow the chain down to where it was lost beneath her shirt. "There's no way to get down to where you can reach them without all of them ganging up on you," she explained, looking at the barn thoughtfully.

"That so?" he said dryly, looking back at the barn. This couldn't have just been easy, could it?

She huffed another breath of laughter, and he met her gaze, seeing that she was giving him a sardonic, regretful half-smirk. "Go on in and see for yourself if you don't trust me," she said flatly, tilting her head in the direction of the barn.

God, how did she do that? He felt like a prick suddenly, and that annoyed him.

But, he did want to see for himself exactly what they were up against, so he nodded, pushing off from the tractor. "Stay here, I'll be right back," he told her.

"Like hell," she said dryly, and moved to walk with him.

Right—she didn't make a habit of following orders. Suppressing the urge to drag her back to camp himself, he decided that as long as he was there with her she couldn't get herself into too much trouble.

"Lemmie go up first," he said, not giving her an option, and climbed the ladder attached to the side of the barn that led to the platform above the back doors.

"Yes, officer," she muttered sarcastically.

Under different circumstances, he would have laughed. Now, he just climbed the ladder and stepped back to give her room to climb after him, giving her a hand up—not that she needed it. He really needed to stop finding excuses to touch her, he realized.

Once they were both standing steadily on the platform, he took a step inside the upper portion of the barn, looking around cautiously. The smell that assaulted him told him what he already knew, and he peered around in the shadowed barn, taking inventory of all he could see. Jenna was right about there being no chance of a person hopping down there and killing all those walkers quietly. In the enclosed space, there were too many of them—and there were still more that he couldn't see from above. He could only imagine what it would be like to be down there among them, within their grasp.

It was far from a pleasant thought.

"When I was in here before, I was trying to guess which ones were his wife and stepson," said Jenna in a subdued tone at Shane's left, looking down at the contained horde of walkers. "He's holding onto nothing…and eventually, he's gonna realize that…and it's gonna destroy him."

That wasn't exactly a pleasant thought either, when he looked at it that way.

Still, looking down at the mass of rotting corpses, his sympathy was engulfed by mounting disgust. In the beginning, he'd had to get the hell out of King County pretty quick after narrowly escaping that hospital with his life when he'd gone back for Rick. His own family was already dead. His parents, his grandma Jean… They were gone, and he hadn't been granted the time to put them to rest the way he should have.

He would've given anything to be able to do right by them, but that had been taken from him too. Hershel had that opportunity, and instead, he chose to let his loved ones waste away bit by bit. And that was just wrong. Dead wrong.

After staring down into the barn for a few minutes, Jenna shook her head and moved back out onto the platform before climbing back down the ladder. Shane took another long look at the swarm of walker heads below, and followed after her, his eyes adjusting to the light of day again. They both made their way silently back to the tractor, Jenna moving her head around in a slow circle. He heard the series of pops from her neck, and almost cringed.

The sound of footsteps at their left caught their attention, and he turned to see Rick approaching them.

"I'll let the two of you talk," said Jenna, and Shane wondered if she was trying to avoid being caught in the middle of another blow-up.

She probably didn't want to end up holding him back again, but he was glad now that she had before. He didn't really want to fight with Rick like that, but, in the heat of the moment… He shook his head slightly. At least Jenna always seemed ready to step in when he needed her to. She really had come to know him very well these past few weeks.

She strolled away in the direction of camp, nodding at Rick as they passed each other. He nodded back at her, watching her go for a moment, and then turned back to Shane, an inquiring look upon his face. "You two have a disagreement or somethin?" Rick asked as he reached him.

"Guess you could call it that," said Shane simply, leaning back against the tractor once more.

"What's her take on all this?" Rick wondered.

Shane didn't want to answer, not wanting to give Rick anymore fuel for his case, but he knew the truth would come out eventually. "She doesn't see any immediate danger," said Shane, knowing he didn't need to state that he disagreed—his tone made that obvious. Rick didn't say anything as he mulled that over. "So what's it gonna be, man?" Shane questioned then. "Which way's this thing go?"

"I don't know yet," Rick answered wearily.

Shane wanted to roll his eyes. "Well, what did he say?" he prodded.

"We're negotiating," said Rick vaguely.

Shane let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. He could only guess how long that _negotiation_ could last. "Clock's tickin, Rick."

Rick shook his head then. "No, no it isn't, Shane," he insisted. "That barn's secure—we didn't even know about it until this mornin."

Huh. Jenna had said something similar. "We didn't," Shane agreed, "but we know 'bout now, right? We know that there's about twenty walkers in there. We know that it's…about a stone's throw from our camp, Rick," he said in exasperation, running his hand over his face. "Where we sleep, where the _women and children_ sleep, so if we're not gonna go in there an' clear it out, then we jus' gotta go."

He didn't want them to have to go, and he knew that Rick didn't want that either. He was just trying to persuade his friend into seeing things from a logical standpoint. Maybe he just needed a push in the right direction.

"We're not gonna clear it out, an' we're not gonna go," Rick said adamantly.

"We jus' need our guns, man—"

"We can't _have_ them!" Rick argued.

"We can't carry our guns," Shane reiterated with a mirthless laugh, shaking his head again. "Why won't you jus' admit that things ain't safe, Rick?"

"Look, we can make it safe," Rick said imploringly.

"Oh, we can make it safe, huh?" challenged Shane doubtfully. "How we gonna do that?"

"We _will_," Rick insisted. "We will, okay?"

"No, man, it's not okay!"

"_Shane!_" Rick yelled sharply, losing his composure. "Lori's pregnant!"

That shock jolted through him like a bolt of lightning, stilling him immediately. And then his mind worked into overdrive. Three kids, seven women, two teenagers, and now a lady with a baby…and a barn full of walkers…

"_We need to stay_," said Rick intently.

Of course they needed to stay, but they also needed things to be safe enough for a baby around here. "We need our guns, Rick—"

"No, you know what?" said Rick. "I can work this out."

Shane shook his head. "You're wrong, man—"

"I'm not wrong," argued Rick. "Ain't you the one who told me weeks ago that we should start listenin to Jenna more often?" he challenged. "You said it yourself—she doesn't see an immediate threat. What happened to that?"

Shane really did not appreciate Rick using Jenna against him that way, but he contained the boiling anger to a manageable level. "We usually see eye-to-eye, but I guess there's a first time for everythin," he said, glaring back at his former partner.

"Well, maybe you should take your own advice an' listen to her," said Rick relentlessly. "_I can work this out_," he maintained.

With that, he pinned Shane with a threatening glare, as though daring him to defy him, and turned to leave in the same direction Jenna had gone, heading back to camp. He was burning in anger as he leaned back against the tractor, glaring hatefully at the walker-infested barn. Hothead—that's what Jenna had said. Well, maybe she was right, but so was he. These people were in danger as long as those walkers were in that barn, whether she wanted to believe that or not. If she wasn't going to protect herself, if none of these people were going to stand up and protect themselves, then he would just have to figure out a way to do it.

If he hadn't been so consumed by thoughts of the walkers in the barn, he might have stopped to wonder _why_ Rick had used Jenna against him, of all things.

* * *

**Note:**

Sorry this chapter is so long. I'd originally had them as two separate chapters, but they were a little too short that way.

To guest reviewer **3Daryl:** I'm sorry. I only just realized that I really haven't described Jenna's physical appearance very well. The cover image is supposed to be Jenna. If for some reason it doesn't show up for you, she's short, light-skinned, with long brown hair that's always messy, and green eyes. I'll see about adding it to the character pictures on my profile page.

Thank you for reading and reviewing! If you have any questions, please feel free to ask me.


	44. Fight For It

**Disclaimer: I am seriously not the owner of The Walking Dead, nor do I intend any copyright infringement. Seriously.**

**Warning: **Rated M for language, gore, and eventual smut.

P.S.: Sorry for any errors, I only proofread this once.

* * *

_"Any negotiation has a limit. Otherwise, war is irrelevant."_

_― Toba Beta_

* * *

Fight For It

_SPOV_

Shane made his way to the RV, glad to find that camp was vacant for the moment, save for Glenn who stood watch. No one was here to stop him, and he was thankful, because if Jenna looked at him with those eyes right now, his resolve would crumble.

"Sup," said Glenn as he approached.

Shane merely gave the kid a brief nod, and stepped into the RV, half-expecting to find Dale guarding the closet. He was pleasantly surprised to find the RV vacant as well.

When he opened the closet, not finding the gun bag, however, he realized that the old man may have been guarding them after all. But, perhaps he was being rash—maybe they'd just been moved, rather than hidden. He searched the interior of the RV, moving from the obvious places to the not so obvious places, and still, there was no trace of the gun bag to be found.

The old man was really giving Shane a run for his money, testing his endurance this way.

He exited the RV and looked up at Glenn, who had seated himself under the umbrella, Dale's fisherman's hat on his head, Winchester rifle in his hold.

"You see where he went?" he asked the younger man, struggling to maintain his temper.

"Who?" was all Glenn responded with.

So much for that. "Don't even try an' shit me, okay?" he demanded.

Glenn only looked more perplexed. "What?"

"_Dale_, Glenn," said Shane impatiently. Maybe he was just completely clueless. "You see where _Dale_ went?"

"He asked me to go and get him some water," Glenn replied, "said he'd cover me on watch."

Shane nodded, looking around the property. "An' he was gone when you got back, huh?" he assumed.

"…Yeah…" said Glenn slowly. "You think he's okay?"

Oh, Shane was sure the old man was just fine. And he was damn lucky he was an _old_ man, or he wouldn't be anywhere close to being fine when Shane found him. And he _would_ find him.

"He's fine," he assured Glenn.

"Well, why'd he bail, then?" he questioned, confused.

"So you wouldn't tell me which way he went," replied Shane, eyeing the perimeter of the property intently.

Glenn was quiet for a moment. "I don't get it," he said eventually.

Shane shook his head. "Naw, man, you don't."

With that, he stalked off, having an idea of where to start looking. He was going to track that old man down if it was the last thing he did. Lives were at stake here, and Dale wasn't doing anything but putting those lives in danger.

Shane looked back at the house as he went, seeing Thao sitting in a rocking chair on the porch, reading one of his comics. He couldn't let these people, these kids, be exposed to this threat.

* * *

_JPOV_

"Here, buddy, sit right here and read your comic for a minute," Jenna said to Thao as they climbed the steps of the Greenes' porch, nodding to the rocking chair on their right. "I'm gonna go in and talk with Hershel."

"Okay," he said, climbing onto the seat and settling in.

She knocked on the door, looking back at the camp to see Glenn sitting up on the RV, apparently having taken watch to relieve Dale.

"Come on in," Hershel's voice called from inside.

She opened the door, and turned back to Thao, who'd opened his _Bone_ comic on his lap. "Stay right there," she reminded him. "Come inside if you need me, okay?"

"Yes, mama," he replied, nodding, and she gave him a wink before stepping over the threshold and into the house.

She stepped into the entryway and looked around, searching for him, and spotted him sitting at the head of his dining table, eating lunch and reading from the Bible, it looked like. She approached a bit hesitantly, not exactly wanting to interrupt his meal, but knowing she needed to have this conversation with him—sooner rather than later. After yesterday, she wasn't sure how successful she'd be, but she had to at least try, right?

His blue eyes turned up to her as she stepped lightly into the dining area, looking her over. "You don't have your machete on ya," he noted, turning back to his Bible.

She almost smirked. "I assumed you wouldn't appreciate it if I brought it into your house," she said truthfully.

"That's considerate of ya," he granted. "You weren't wrong."

He was on a bit of a defensive edge already. Rick had already spoken to him, so he might have been a little rattled. She decided to venture on as delicately as she could manage while still remaining honest.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to talk with you," she said, and his eyes turned up to meet hers critically. "Not to argue, or to start a debate," she assured him, putting her hands up slightly, "I'd just…I'd like to have a word with you. If you're up for it."

He seemed to consider that for a moment before he nodded, gesturing for her to take a seat at the table. She moved and slid into a chair obligingly, and he waited for her to begin. She'd spent the last hour or so reacquainting herself with the manners she'd been taught by her father and grandmother. Now she just had to channel them into a dicey conversation. The fact that she did not at all agree with the way Hershel chose to deal with his dead loved ones could not be a factor in this discussion, and she had to be sure to keep that in mind. Because that wasn't what this discussion was about, and that would just lead to an inevitable argument.

_Focus on the task,_ she reminded herself, for what felt like the hundredth time in the past hour.

"It's clear that you don't want us here, and I get it—I really do," she started, and he listened, silent but attentive. "If I was in your position…I'm not sure I'd be any more willing to let a group of strangers settle on my land than you are. So far, we've been more of a liability for you than an asset," she said admittedly. "But I think we can improve on that."

He set his fork down and closed his Bible, leaning back in his seat, seeming to study her anew. Well, at least she had his attention.

"You and I don't see things the same way here," she ventured on, "and that's okay with me. That's not what I came here to talk about." She ran a hand through her hair. "I'm sure you'd rather we left, so you and your family can continue on in peace…but I'd like it if you allowed us to stay."

He tilted his head, gazing at her in interest. "You'd like it if I allowed ya to stay…" he parroted thoughtfully. "You're not a very demanding woman, are ya?"

She breathed a breath of laughter. "I'm in no position to make any demands here, Hershel," she said honestly. "This is your home, we're squatters. You make the rules here, not us."

He frowned slightly, seeming to mull that over.

"I don't see things the way you do," she began again, "when it comes to the dead, and I won't pretend to…but I'm not going to try and make you see things my way. It's not my place. But I will ask you to give us a chance. I understand that I'm putting you on the spot by asking this of you, but I'll ask anyway—don't make me bring my son back out there."

He locked eyes with her then, and she could feel the tension beginning to rise in the atmosphere between them.

"Thao is not mine biologically, but he is mine," she continued. "He's mine as much as Beth and Maggie are yours, and there is nothing I wouldn't do to keep him safe. So I'll do things your way, so long as it keeps us here. This place is…is unlike any other place Thao and I have come across, and we've been pretty much everywhere, before we met the others. It's safe here. It's…it's the best thing we're gonna find, and I don't want to take that away from him. Not when here he can be offered the chance to enjoy being a child, not when he can have good memories here. You haven't been out there, so I don't think you know exactly how much of a luxury that is. He's been robbed of his childhood too much already, and bringing him back out there will only rob that much more from him. He's spent too much time out there. _Please_, don't make me bring him back."

The silence that followed hung heavily between them for an immeasurable moment, and Jenna held her breath, waiting to see where they stood now.

"You make a compelling argument," he said eventually, and she gave him a rueful half-smile. "I don't wanna send your boy back out there. I don't wanna send the other children back out there. But I can't have you an' your group runnin rampant on my farm."

She nodded. "I get that. That's what I'm here to talk to you about."

"You think there's a way for us to live together," he deduced, obvious doubt in his voice.

She nodded again. "There's gotta be a way," she said honestly. "Listen, the barn—personally, I don't see it as a threat. But I think I'm alone there, when it comes to the group. If we could just make it secure—"

"The barn _is_ secure," he said adamantly.

"I know," she assured him, putting her hands up slightly. "I know—they don't," she explained, nodding her head toward the door behind her. "They're scared, and they're not convinced that it's secure. Hershel, all I'm asking is that you and Rick talk this through—I mean really talk it through—and come to an agreement that everyone can live with. That everyone can be satisfied by."

He stared back at her for a long, tense moment, and she didn't drop his gaze, silently imploring him to grant them this. Eventually, miraculously, he nodded, albeit very reluctantly. Still, it was something.

She got to her feet then, and held her hand out to him. "Thank you," she said sincerely.

After a moment, he reached out and shook her hand, nodding at her again. She exited the house then, smiling down at Thao as he peered up at her from his comic with a little grin. She ruffled his hair gently, and looked back at the camp in the distance.

Glenn was still keeping watch on top of the RV, Andrea had taken to sharpening a Bowie knife, sitting in a foldout chair by the fire pit, and Dusty and Lori were hanging laundry while Carl worked on his lessons at the old picnic table under the shade. She didn't see Rick anywhere, and wondered if he was still down at the barn talking to Shane. She assumed T-Dog must have been taking a rest in his tent, and figured Daryl was probably doing the same in his own, under Hershel's orders for rest. She didn't see Dale, but thought that he might have been in the RV, stewing about Shane. She didn't see Carol or Sophia, either, and wondered where they might've been.

Things were peaceful here, and Thao deserved a life with as much peace as this world would grant. If she had to let Hershel cram walkers into a barn, then so be it. Shane could huff and puff all he wanted.

She smirked a little ruefully. Maybe she should go and bring him some water. He'd been standing guard at the back of the barn for most of the day, in the ninety degree heat. But, then again, maybe she shouldn't go there. She was getting too close, and she needed to start backing away before it was too late. She was attracted to him—there was no denying that—but she didn't have to get emotionally involved.

More accurately, she _shouldn't_ have gotten emotionally involved. But, she'd be lying to herself if she were to say that wasn't already a lost cause.

Sighing slightly, she ran a hand through her hair again, and leaned against the banister, gazing down at the property.

Peace. It was worth fighting for. It was worth fighting over, in whatever way it had to be done.

* * *

_SPOV_

The sweltering air was practically sticky with humidity in the dense woods, which only seemed to add fuel to the fire that was Shane's temper. He was overheated, body and mind, and it was doing absolutely nothing to calm his mounting anger. In fact, with every stride he took through the grass, dirt, and dead leaves, his anger strengthened as it morphed itself into determination.

Hothead—if only Jenna could see him _now_. It would've given her a whole new meaning to the word, seeing him at this moment.

While he marched on determinedly, sweat pouring down his back, he wondered vaguely if it would scare her to see him this way. He doubted it—not much seemed to scare the little woman, even when it should've—but it wasn't exactly a pleasant thought. Jenna was the last person he would've ever wanted to frighten. After everything she already knew about him, she didn't fear him for even a second, and words could never describe how comforting that was. If that were to be eradicated…

He didn't even want to consider it. No, she wouldn't be afraid of what he was going to do. She'd be pissed off, no doubt, but not afraid. She'd understand. She always understood. He didn't know why, but when it came to him, she just always understood, somehow.

A rustling of dry, dead leaves had him halting in his tracks, reaching for the Buck knife tucked into his belt. For possibly the hundredth time that day, he was ready to spit nails for the absence of his trusted Glock. Yes, he had to admit that Jenna made a good point—blades were quiet and got the job done—but he still would've been more comfortable knowing he always had a firearm on him just in case a blade wasn't enough.

Gripping the handle of the knife securely, Shane crept around a thicket of bushes, seeking out the source of the noise. Hopefully, it was just one walker, and he'd make quick work of it.

But when the culprit was in sight, it wasn't a walker at all—it was Dale, with the gun bag resting safely at his feet while he tried to hammer in a metal spike into the body of a large tree. A place marker. Standing a bit of a distance away from the edge of the little swamp, Shane observed the old man while he worked. The gun bag had been wrapped sloppily in black plastic, making Dale's intentions obvious—though no less bizarre. The old man was seriously going to hide all of their guns out here in the swamps, just to keep those rotting corpses in the barn safe? Shane wondered what Dale's plans were if they were in danger and needed those guns. They sure as hell wouldn't do them any good out here.

Swatting at a mosquito that landed on his forearm, Shane decided that he'd wasted enough time out in the woods, and secured the Buck knife in his belt again before stepping closer.

"Man, this is a _good_ hidin place," he mocked, speaking loud enough to make the old man jump a bit. "We ain't been in the swamps much, huh?"

Dale glared back at Shane for a moment before turning back around, stubbornly continuing with his pointless task. "Imagine if you'd applied your tracking skills to the search, how much sooner we might've found Sophia," he said, his voice dripping with contempt.

Oh, so he was to be blamed for that too, huh? Of course he was—the bitter old man would only ever find fault in Shane's choices. That much was clear.

But he was fed up with this whole ridiculous escapade, anyway. "How 'bout you gimmie that bag," he suggested as he strode forward, walking across a narrow earthen path that connected the large tree to the rest of the dry ground around it. His words came out sounding more like a command than a request.

"I'm not gonna do that," Dale told him confidently.

Shane stopped a few paces away from him, gathering up as much patience as he could manage. "Yeah ya are, Dale," he said, just as confidently, if not somewhat amusedly. "Unless, well…you do have that rifle over your shoulder," he mocked, indicating the scoped Remington.

Dale shot him a reproving glare. "What are you gonna kill me, like you did Russell and Otis?" he taunted. "Tell another story? You're real good at that. Whatever you've told Jenna seems to be workin well for you."

Shane's temper blazed, nearly out of control, and he had to remind himself that Dale was an old man in order to reign in the urge to swing a fist out at him. He didn't care how infuriating he found the old man, he'd been raised better than that. His mama might've been gone, but that didn't change the fact that Shane knew she would've never forgiven him for clocking an old man in the face. Hell, mama Bianca was the only reason Shane had even acquired manners at all. He'd be damned if he were to put her to shame now—though it was taking all of his willpower to remain calm and collected.

When Shane didn't voice a response—he hadn't trusted himself to put anything into words at the moment—Dale gave him a trace of a sneer, looking like a man who'd won a small victory.

"Nothin to say for once?" he asked, prodding the bull.

"Jus' gimmie the guns, Dale," Shane replied, working to keep his tone even and his temper in check. It was no easy feat.

Something about the tone of Shane's voice and the look on his face wiped the sneer out of the old man's expression, only to be quickly replaced by a cold scowl. "You really think this is gonna keep everyone safe?" he challenged.

That went without saying, but Shane nodded anyway. "Mhm. I know it is," he said calmly.

Dale tried another tactic, and instead tried for reasoning. "Rick is talkin to Hershel to work things out," he maintained. And then a hint of malevolence glinted in his dark eyes when he continued. "And if you haven't noticed, Jenna is on _his_ side this time. Looks like all the lies in the world couldn't even keep her under your thumb, huh?"

And that about did it for his temper.

"Dale, shut up, an' gimmie the guns," he demanded, not letting himself rise to the bait.

He wasn't using Jenna. He wasn't hurting her. He for damn sure wasn't keeping her under his thumb. This old man thought he knew better. Thought Shane was manipulating the young woman for his benefit. The idea made Shane sick. Hell, it downright infuriated him. But he refused to respond to the taunt, as much as his blazing temper was screaming for him to.

The change in Shane's demeanor wasn't lost in Dale, and he seemed to recognize that he was encroaching into dangerous territory. He set the bag of guns down against the tree behind him carefully, and the slid the Remington from his shoulder. Shane watched, bemused, as he loaded a round into the chamber and then aimed the rifle directly at his heart. It wouldn't have mattered whether or not Dale was a good shot—from that distance, it would've been dead accurate.

But he'd never pull the trigger. That was a fact.

"Am I gonna have to kill ya?" Dale asked in a would-be threatening tone. The shakiness in his voice stated all too clearly that he was not even close to being ready to do just that. "Is that what it's gonna take?"

Shane glared back at the old man, wondering just how far he was willing to go, and called his bluff. He stepped forward slowly, deliberately, and didn't come to a stop until the barrel of the rifle was pressed against his chest. Dale looked up at him from the other end of the gun, eyes wide with fear and loathing combined. The old man was visibly shaking now, even though he was on the trigger end of the rifle, while Shane stood still and calm.

"Yeah," said Shane simply. "That's what it's gonna take. But you an' I both know that ain't gonna happen."

Dale pulled the rifle back and slung it over his shoulder again, firing a reproving glare at Shane all the while. "This is where you belong, Shane," he said, a bit shakily.

That honestly confused Shane a bit. "How's that, Dale?"

"This world, the way it is now," Dale explained, gathering up the bag of guns. "This is where you belong."

Shane hated the fact that the old man's words had more of an effect on him than he would've thought, but he clenched his jaw and didn't respond. How much truth was there to those words? He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

"I may not have what it takes to last for long, but that's okay," Dale went on, ranting. "But at least I can say, that when the world goes to shit, I didn't let it take me down with it," she spat, shoving the gun bag into Shane's hands.

Shane glowered back at the old man, his temper all but blazing out of control, as he hoisted the bag up under his arm. "Fair 'nuff," was all he voiced, fighting to keep himself under control, before striding away from the seething, though obviously shaken, old man.

He ripped the plastic from the bag while he stormed through the woods, leaving Dale behind him, keeping his back turned and giving the old man every opportunity to shoot him in the back while he had the chance.

The fact that Shane hadn't received a bullet in the back—or in the chest—just went to prove Dale wrong. Because if he was such a danger, as Dale believed, then the old man would've taken care of it when he had the chance. He wasn't what was threatening the group's survival—that barn full of walkers was, whether the others wanted to believe it or not. Rick would spend a fortnight negotiating with Hershel, and they just didn't have that kind of time to wait around for something to happen.

The threat was obvious, as was the solution. Delusions couldn't play any part in that. Delusions would only get people killed, and he'd be damned if he didn't do anything to prevent that.

Even if that meant losing Jenna as a friend. It would hurt, there was no way around that, but if that was the price he had to pay to keep her and everyone else safe, then he'd do it. Simple as that.

* * *

**Note:**

I've had this chapter half-written for so long...actually, I've had it half-written before I even started Part Two of the story. In all honesty, starting out with this story, I never thought I'd get to this point. So a huge thank you to those of you who've been reading, and of course those who've been reviewing. You guys have kept me motivated thus far, and I appreciate it.

One thing I just wanted to make clear; I'm really not trying to make Dale out to be the bad guy here. He truly believes that Shane murdered both Otis and Russell, and he believes that he's taking advantage of Jenna and lying to her. He's not just being stubborn and prejudiced. As for Shane, well, he knows Dale's wrong in both cases, but he doesn't want to give anything away that might reveal anything about Jenna's history. And, he probably doesn't feel as though he needs to explain himself to a meddling old man. I hope I've portrayed that here, but if I haven't, I'm sorry for the confusion.

To the guest reviewer who inquired about Jenna's age; Jenna is currently 22, getting closer to 23. I don't blame you for forgetting, honestly. It was mentioned so long ago...chapter 16, if I remember correctly. So that would make Shane 32-ish, closer to what it was in the show. Sorry for the confusion! I don't know why I picked 22 for her age...maybe I was thinking about Shane's necklace in the show, lol.

**P.S.:** Sorry for the lack of action/excitement lately, but I think you can see where this is going... :)


	45. Enough Is Enough

**Disclaimer: I'm not the owner of The Walking Dead, because my name is not Robert Kirkman. No copyright intended.**

**Warning: **Rated M for language, gore, and eventual smut.

* * *

_"There comes a time in your life when you finally get it ... When in the midst of all your fears and insanity you stop dead in your tracks and somewhere the voice inside your head cries out 'ENOUGH!'"_

_—Sonny Carroll_

* * *

Enough Is Enough

Jenna sat on the steps of the porch, watching the grass move in gentle waves in response to the light breeze that swept through the farm. According to Maggie, Hershel and Rick had gone off somewhere—to talk, Jenna hoped—and now most of them seemed to have gathered either on or around the porch to wait for their return. Thao was still in the rocking chair, reading away, and Lori and Carl sat on the porch swing together, awaiting Rick's return. Beth and Patricia had coaxed him into a game of checkers, and they all sat around a little table with the game board upon it.

"Do you know where Carol and Sophia went?" Jenna asked Dusty, who was occupying herself with playing with the ends of Jenna's hair.

"Yeah, they went off with Daryl somewhere a little while ago," she replied. "Said he wanted to show 'em somethin."

Jenna smiled slightly at the very out-of-character act on Daryl's part. "That's sweet."

Dusty giggled lightly. "Innit?"

Glenn approached the porch then, Dale's fisherman's hat perched on his head—a sight which had Jenna struggling not to smirk—and took a seat on the steps above them. She wondered if he'd gotten too hot up on the RV.

"You look like you should be in line for an early-bird special," teased Maggie as she came to sit beside him, seeming to have forgiven him.

He laughed a bit, nodding ruefully.

She smirked, taking the hat from his head. "Go an' get your cap—I'll wash it for you."

He smiled and patted her leg gently. "I'll get it later."

It was clear he didn't want to move from his spot at her side for the time being. Jenna caught Dusty smirking, and nudged her with her elbow.

At the left, movement caught her eye, and Jenna turned her gaze to see Sophia approaching the house with her mother, a white flower in her hands, while Daryl followed a few paces behind them, crossbow in hand. Jenna couldn't help but to think that Daryl would make a good father. He may have been somewhat of a belligerent ass at times, but he was a good man at heart. A much better man than Ed could have ever hoped to have been even on his best day, to say the least.

"Hi, sweetie pie," said Dusty as Sophia reached the porch steps. "Where ya been?"

"Daryl showed me and mom the Cherokee roses," Sophia replied, and held out her flower. "See? Pretty, huh?"

"That was nice of him," Jenna noted, trying not to smile too much as she met Daryl's eyes.

"Where the hell is everyone?" a familiar, grating voice called irritably from their right—thoroughly ruining the little moment—and Jenna looked up to see Andrea and T-Dog approaching them.

Dusty barely suppressed an annoyed groan.

"Someone was supposed to take over for me on guard duty down at the barn a half hour ago," Andrea went on, and that certainly snagged Jenna's attention.

"Shane's not down there?" she asked.

"No, he asked me to keep watch for him," said Andrea—a tad haughtily.

Jenna did not pay attention to her attitude, however, for now she had much more pressing matters to think about. If Shane wasn't down by the barn, then where the hell was he? Was he up to something? Perhaps something had gone wrong, wherever he went… Was he okay?

"Oh, here we go," said Daryl appreciatively.

Jenna looked up and followed his gaze to see Shane striding up to the porch. The relief she felt at seeing him unharmed was short-lived, however, when she noticed the gun bag under his left arm, and the look of determination on his face. His intentions were clear, and Jenna's heart was rapidly picking up the pace in mounting anxiety. This needed to be done—_eventually_. Not like this, and certainly not _now_.

_Fuck!_ Why hadn't she stayed behind at the barn to talk with him longer? Maybe they could've come to an agreement then. Maybe things wouldn't have ended up spiraling down in a nosedive—and things certainly seemed to be headed in that very direction.

"What's all this?" Daryl asked as Shane reached them.

"You with me, man?" Shane asked, holding out a pump-action shotgun for him to take.

Daryl took the gun. "Hell yeah," he said honestly.

"Time to grow up," Shane told the rest of them, and looked over at Andrea. "Ya already got yours?"

"Yeah," she said, frowning at him. "Where's Dale?"

That was a very good question in Jenna's opinion. She'd thought he was in the RV sulking, but if Shane had the gun bag…

"He's on his way," Shane assured her dismissively.

Jenna's eyes cut over to the RV, seeing no sign of Dale anywhere near it, and turned her gaze back to Shane. "On his way from where, exactly?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. She knew he wouldn't have done anything to harm Dale, but it was clear that he wasn't telling the whole story, whatever it was.

He met her gaze for a moment, but said nothing as he turned his attention back to the bag of guns in his hold, rifling through it.

"Thought we couldn't carry," said T-Dog, bemused, as Shane passed him a Glock 19.

"Yeah, well we can an' we have to," Shane replied, coming up to Jenna and Dusty as they stood up from the porch steps. "Take this," he said, pushing Jenna's loaded Beretta into her hand.

"Shane, _slow down_," Jenna reasoned, tucking the gun into the back of her belt while he handed Dusty her Taurus, not meeting her eyes for even a moment that time. "_Wait_ for a second—"

"Hey, look, it was one thing sittin around pickin daisies when we thought this place was safe," he said to them as a whole, "but now we know it ain't." He held out a shotgun for Glenn to take. "How 'bout you, man? You gon' protect yours?"

Glenn looked from him to Maggie at his side, and took the gun reluctantly.

"Can you shoot?" Shane asked, turning to Maggie.

"Can you stop?" she shot back. "You do this, you hand out these guns, my dad'll make y'all leave _tonight_," she warned.

"Shane, please, just stop for a second—" Jenna tried, but was cut off by Lori, who shouldered past her and stormed over to Shane, a ball of wrath and fury, and stopped just a few inches away from him.

"Rick said no guns," she told him furiously. "This is not your call. This is not your decision to make," she spat, sounding rather pompous, in Jenna's opinion. And something told her that taking a personal jab at the man in front of her was not exactly the way to go here, with the furious determination that practically radiated off of him.

"Oh, shit…" T-Dog's voice broke through the tension, capturing everyone's attention.

They all looked to the right to see what startled him, and Jenna's eyes widened when she spotted Jimmy, Hershel, and Rick coming out of the woods—with two walkers snared with snap-poles snarling and snapping along with them.

And Jenna knew immediately that the spiraling nosedive was very near on the horizon.

"What the hell is this?" Shane practically growled, and took off at a sprint toward the barn, where Rick, Hershel, and Jimmy were leading the walkers.

The others began to run after him, and Jenna moved instead to the landing of the porch. "Come on, buddy," she urged Thao, working to keep her voice calm.

"What is it?" he asked, not oblivious to the sudden high tension.

"It's alright, baby, I promise," Jenna assured him, carrying him into the house. "I need you to stay inside. Stay here, and do _not_ come out. I'll come get you."

"Yes, mama," he promised, his eyes wide.

She kissed his head briefly, and she was out the door, running after the others, managing to catch up to the stragglers just as they reached the barn. Shane was the first of them there, however—she'd never seen him run so fast.

"Man, what the hell you doin?" he yelled at Rick furiously.

"Shane, jus' back off!" Rick ordered, struggling to control the walker in the mud-covered blue jumpsuit he had snared by the neck.

"Why do your people have guns?" Hershel demanded.

"Shane, _calm down_!" Jenna implored desperately, coming to a stop between Carol and T-Dog, moving to put herself between the walkers and Sophia. The girl was sandwiched between Jenna and her mother, barricaded from danger.

"Are you kiddin me?" Shane demanded incredulously, circling Rick, Hershel, and their walkers. "You see what they're holdin onto?"

"I see _who_ I'm holdin onto!" Hershel said angrily, struggling to keep the walker in the long, weathered nightgown at a safe distance from Rick. If that snap-pole slipped through his fingers…

"Naw, man—you _don't_," Shane spat in disgust.

"Shane, jus' let us do this—then we can talk!" said Rick, obviously aggravated.

"What d'you wanna talk about, Rick?" Shane challenged, sidestepping to avoid the swinging arm of the walker in the jumpsuit. "These things ain't people! They're not sick—they're _dead_! Ain't gotta feel nothin for 'em, 'cause you know what they do? They _kill_! These things, right here!"

The others—save for the Greene family, Glenn, and Lori—all seemed to be taken in by Shane's rant. Andrea was nodding in agreement, clearly swayed. Daryl and T-Dog already had their guns raised at the walkers, looking for a clean shot. Dusty, though looking highly apprehensive, held her Taurus out and was ready to raise it at any given moment as she eyed the two walkers with obvious disgust.

"They're the ones that killed Amy an' Jim!" Shane went on. "They killed Otis an' Russell! They're gonna kill the rest of us too, if we keep lettin this go on—"

"_Shane, shut up!_" Rick roared.

"Hey, Hershel, man, m'ask you somethin," said Shane in a deceptively calmer tone of voice as he stopped circling and pulled the Glock from his belt, loading a round in the chamber. "Could a livin, breathin person—could they jus' walk away from this?"

"Shane, no!" Jenna pleaded along with Rick and Maggie.

She could feel Sophia jump in fright behind her when he fired three rounds into the chest of the walker Hershel was holding onto. Jenna could see the undiluted horror upon the old man's face as he stared at it, and her heart practically ached for him. He had just been forced to face all of the things that he'd been denying for so long in three rounds from Shane's gun. He was wrong, and it wasn't healthy for him to have been carrying on in that way, but seeing the look on his face…surely this couldn't have been the right way to make him understand, could it?

"That's three rounds to the chest!" Shane yelled. "Someone who's _alive_, could they just take that? Why's it still comin?"

He fired twice more, not shooting to kill, Jenna knew—shooting to demonstrate.

"Shane, _stop_!" Jenna begged, angrily now. She felt that he'd made his point quite effectively, and Hershel wasn't the only Greene family member to be witnessing this. Sixteen-year-old, sheltered, innocent, Beth was standing somewhere with Patricia, watching all of this unfold.

"That's its heart, its lungs!" yelled Shane, unyielding. "_Why's_ it still comin?" He fired three more rounds into the stomach of the still standing, still snarling walker.

"Shane, _enough_!" Rick ordered angrily.

"Hey, you're right, man," said Shane, glowering as he strode toward the walker, "that _is_ enough."

The blast that followed echoed around them, and the walker finally collapsed as Shane shot it through the head at point-blank range. Hershel let the snap-pole slip through his fingers, and stared down in horror as the body crumpled to the ground below him.

His whole world might as well have fallen down with it.

The old man started to buckle, and Maggie sped forward, catching him by the shoulders before he could fall hard onto the ground. Patricia ran up to his other side the following moment, and the two women guided him gently down so that he was sitting upon his knees. Jenna could see the old man trembling, and could only imagine the torrent of thoughts and emotions that must've been tearing around his mind in that moment.

"_Enough_, livin next to a barn full'a things that are tryin'a kill us, _enough_ pretendin things are okay when they ain't—_enough_!" Jenna turned her gaze from Hershel to see Shane glaring at Rick. "Rick, it ain't like it was before," he growled.

And then he sped toward the doors of the barn, and grabbed a pickaxe that had been leaning innocently enough on the side of the entrance.

"_No!_" a shriek sounded off somewhere from behind them.

Jenna turned around to see Beth rushing forward, her intent seeming to be to try and stop Shane. Her mother was in there, of course.

Moving quickly, Jenna cut her off before she could get much further, wrapping her arms around the girl and holding her back. Beth struggled wildly to break free of Jenna's hold, but she wasn't about to let the girl get anywhere near that barn with Shane working so hard to bust it open. Panic-stricken people and hordes of walkers did not mesh well.

"Hershel, take the snap-pole!" Rick ordered fervently. "_Hershel!_ Take the snap-pole, _please_! Shane, stop! Do not do this, brother!" he pleaded.

"_Riiiick!_" Lori screamed demandingly from behind them while she struggled to keep Carl from rushing forward, as though to ask him why he wasn't stopping the mayhem that was ensuing. If Jenna didn't have her hands full, she might have rounded on the woman right then. What the fuck was Rick supposed to do _now_?

But, if Hershel was in no condition to take the snap-pole, then she would.

"Jimmy!" Jenna called out sharply, knowing he had to be somewhere among them. "_Help_ me!"

He sped over to them from her left, and she relinquished the still violently struggling Beth over to him. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, binding her against him, and she ceased with struggling to proceed with weeping. Jenna spun back around to see that Shane had busted the doors open and stepped back to the small line-up that had gathered; Daryl, T-Dog, Andrea, Dusty, and Shane stood, guns aimed at the opened door.

It was already too late.

The first walker stumbled through, knocking the doors wide open—and then the rest of them spilled out in a massive torrent of rotting flesh and gnashing jaws.

Jenna spat out a curse and moved forward, pulling the gun from her belt and opening fire at Shane's right side. These people were too close to this wide-open barn. It was no longer safe. She couldn't stop this now—all she could do was join the line-up and try and end it quickly, and hope to God Jimmy was covering Beth's eyes.

After a few moments, Glenn sped up to Jenna's other side, pointing and aiming the shotgun, though it was clear that he did not want to be doing so. Like her, he'd had his hand forced in this situation.

For what seemed like an eternity, nothing could be heard but the thunderous sound of gunfire. Jenna didn't count how many walkers she shot down—she didn't want to. She was beyond furious at having her hand forced this way. She didn't want to take part in the massacre that was unfolding before the Greenes' eyes.

Shane stopped firing for a moment at her left, and out of the corner of her eye she saw him turn around and shoot again—he'd put down the walker in the jumpsuit Rick was still holding onto, she understood. In all the mayhem, she'd completely forgotten about it.

She shot down one more as the last of them poured out through the door, and the others took care of the rest, the sound of gunfire only stopping when the last two—a woman in a shawl and a nightgown with a golden pendant hanging around her neck, and a burly man in overalls—went down.

A heavy silence washed over them then, and Jenna glared down at the fallen bodies that lay piled around the front of the barn, anger searing in her chest.

Beth's sobs could be heard then, and Jenna looked back at her over her shoulder, seeing that Jimmy was holding her close—though he didn't seem to have covered her eyes—while she sobbed painfully. Jenna knew that her mother had been dead for a long while, but to Beth, she had only just been killed—right before her eyes. This was not the way that girl should have had to come to terms with things.

Jenna turned her gaze from Beth to Shane, and she let out the breath she'd been holding all the while, looking up at him, both furiously and beseechingly. _Why?_ She couldn't read the expression on his face, but she didn't have long to decipher it.

A quiet snarling sound caught her attention, and she looked back at the opened barn, trying to peer into the shadows within.

The smaller figure of a young woman stepped out from the darkness, stumbling into the light of day… And Jenna found herself staring directly into the sunken, dark-circled eyes of Miranda Morales.

But how could that have possibly been her? She and her husband and children were supposed to be off to Birmingham—maybe even there by now—not here, locked up in the barn on the Greene's property.

But it _was_ her, or, it had been…before she'd been bitten. Her black hair, once smooth and normally tied back in a neat bun, hung loose and scraggly about her dirty, blood-stained shoulders. Her skin had lost the pretty golden brown hue, succumbing instead to a sickly gray. Long-since dried blood and gore stained the yellow sundress in random patches, and Jenna couldn't stop her mind from asking the cold, gruesome question; whose blood was it? Her husband's, perhaps? Or maybe even Louis or Eliza?

Jenna didn't know, and she didn't want to know. She didn't want to believe that it was too late for either of those children, even though it was too late for their loving mother. The claw marks across her throat and the jagged, bite-sized hole in her shoulder gave evidence to that.

Mournful gasps sounded off from a few different places around Jenna, who sighed heavily, feeling her heart constrict as she pulled the Beretta from her belt again. There was no way in hell that anyone there wanted to be the one to do this, and she really couldn't blame them—so she would be the one. This was no worse than the things she'd done before, in any case. What was one more image to haunt her conscious? The others had been closer to Miranda than she was, having spent more time with the young woman, so it would hurt them more than it would her.

And Jenna was damn well ready for this to be over. The Greenes didn't need to see anymore. The kids didn't need to see anymore. Those who'd been closest to the sweet Miranda Morales didn't need to see anymore.

Shane was right. _Enough._

"Jenna—" Shane said quietly, putting a hand on her shoulder to hold her back.

She shook it off and stepped forward. "_Mne ochen zhal,_" she murmured as she aimed her gun, blinked back the heat in her eyes, and sent one final round into Miranda Morales's head.

* * *

**Note:**

The phrase at the end is Russian, roughly translated to "I'm sorry," as an expression of sympathy. I'm not sure how accurate it is, but it's closest to what I was looking for.

Also, I know some of you were expecting Danny to be in the barn, and I did consider it for quite some time. But, I have other plans for him, and I'd always planned to bring in the Morales family again somehow.

Anyway, thank you for reading, and please review!


	46. Aftermath

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead, honest to goodness. No copyright intended.**

**Warning: **Rated M for language, gore, and eventual smut.

* * *

_"No man is happy without a delusion of some kind. Delusions are as necessary to our happiness as realities."_

_—Christian Nestell Bovee_

* * *

Aftermath

Staring down at Miranda's lifeless body, Jenna lowered her Beretta—it suddenly seemed to be made of red-hot lead—and stowed it into the back of her belt. Beth's sobbing wrenched her heart, and she was reluctant to turn around, but she didn't exactly want to be staring at _this_ scene any longer, and she needed to go and check on Thao. All of the gunfire had to have him worried.

She'd barely turned around when footsteps announced someone's approach, and she nearly spun right into Shane before retreating backward a step.

"Jenna—"

"I know," she said in a low voice, not wanting to hear his reasoning just now, or even an apology, if that was what he was trying to voice to her. She moved her eyes from his over to the weeping Greene family. "I know…but you can't tell me _this_ was the right way to do things."

Dale came upon the scene behind everyone slowly, looking around at the remnants of the mayhem that had just ensued a few moments before with wide, disbelieving eyes. He looked from the Greene family, to Rick, and then his eyes landed on Shane, undisguised accusation and hatred burning within them.

If he'd had no incentive to voice his suspicions to Rick before, he certainly did now.

Beth broke free of Jimmy's hold and strode shakily toward the mass of fallen walkers, sobbing relentlessly all the while. Rick held out a hand to try and stop her, but she pushed it away, determined on her course. Jenna could only watch with deep sympathy as the girl drew upon the bodies, and dropped to her knees beside a small grouping of them. She grabbed the arm of a walker in dirt and grime-covered overalls, and threw it off of the walker it had fallen over—the woman with the shawl and golden necklace. So that was her mother…

"Mom…" she wept pleadingly, and Jenna had to look away. "Mom…"

A guttural snarl and a shrill scream of terror made her spin back around, and when she saw Beth struggling to pull away from her dead mother, who was snarling and snapping at her, Jenna sprinted forward along with the others.

Shane wrapped an arm around the girl's middle and struggled to pull her away, but the walker had a vice grip on her hair. Suddenly, hands were all over, grasping Beth by the arms and middle, while Jenna, Dusty, and Glenn worked to rip the arms of the walker away from her before her dead mother's nails could scrape across her skin. Mercifully, they managed to separate them, and Beth was relinquished to Hershel, who had been snapped out of his horrified stupor the moment his youngest daughter cried out in terror.

With Beth out of harm's way, T-Dog proceeded to stomp on the walker's head, while Daryl helped Jenna and Dusty to safely free themselves of its grasping hands.

"Whoa, _hey_!" Shane yelled suddenly from behind them, the words meshing into one.

In the same instant, there was the sound of a blade slicing quickly through the air, and Jenna and Dusty were barely pulled away by Shane and Daryl in time to avoid the deadly sharp curved blade that nearly slashed right through them.

Jenna stared at Andrea, who stood holding the end of the scythe she'd just embedded into Annette Greene's head.

"Bitch, you lost your _damn mind_?" Dusty yelled in fury, straightening out of Daryl's hold and glowering at Andrea. "You damn near jus' cut us in half!"

Andrea let go of the scythe, letting it fall with the body, and threw her hands out in disbelief. "Someone had to do _something_!" she defended. "I just saved your ass—get the hell off mine!"

"_Saved_ my ass?" Dusty shot back incredulously, striding toward the older woman, murder in her brown eyes. "You damn near jus' _killed_ my ass!"

Jenna pulled away from Shane and grabbed Dusty by the arm to stop her, before that scythe was used as a deadly weapon on a _living_ person. "Come on," she said in a low voice, shooting Andrea a reproving glare before pulling her friend away from the woman.

"Jenna, hey," Shane tried again, reaching out to stop her.

She just pulled her hand away as she passed, not trusting herself to be able to speak without losing hold of the tenuous grip she had on her composure. Instead, she just led Dusty away from the barn, and together they walked back up to the house behind the Greene family, who were all walking in a group, Hershel and Maggie holding up Beth as they went.

What started off as a simple morning had devolved into one of the hardest days they'd had in a while—and somehow, Jenna didn't see things getting better any time soon.

* * *

"Turnin out to be one helluvuh day," grumbled Daryl as he walked with Jenna and Dusty back down to the barn from camp.

"Yeah, no kiddin," said Dusty, an irritable bite to her tone—she was far from forgiving Andrea.

Jenna glanced back over her shoulder toward camp, checking on Thao, who was sitting at the picnic table with Carol and Sophia. She had the kids entertained with markers for the time being, so the others could focus on taking care of the mess at the barn.

"Hey, Dale," Lori said as the three of them reached the barn, where the others had re-gathered. "Would you take Carl up to the house?"

The old man turned his glaring gaze from Shane and nodded at Lori.

"I want you to take it easy, okay?" said Lori to her son, stroking his hair back gently.

He nodded, and walked with Dale away from the barn and back up to the house. Though, why Lori had sent him there to be watched by a grieving family, Jenna couldn't say. And she wasn't exactly in the mood to say much of anything at the moment.

"Should we start buryin 'em?" T-Dog asked Shane, who stood still and silent, looking around at the fallen bodies.

"We need some type of service," said Andrea. "Hershel and his family would want that."

"Yeah, we all would," agreed T-Dog, looking solemnly at Miranda's prone figure.

"Let's dig a grave for Miranda, and Annette and Shaun, um…" Lori suggested, looking around the property searchingly, "over by those trees," she decided, pointing. "And we'll need a truck, to move the bodies."

Jimmy nodded. "I'll get the keys," he told her, ever the helpful teenager.

He seemed to be taking things much better than the rest of the Greene family, and Jenna wondered if his views on the dead had more realistic than optimistic.

Shane held out a hand to stop the boy, a grim look set upon his face. "I got the truck." With that he strode away silently, not looking back, and Jenna forced herself not to watch him go.

"An' the others?" Jimmy asked, looking around at them inquiringly. "That's a lotta diggin," he pointed out, looking back at the bodies.

"We bury the ones we love, and burn the rest," Andrea told him.

He nodded, and Lori strode forward to stand at Rick's side, who had remained silent all the while. "Let's get to work," she told everyone.

Jenna ignored the order and stepped over toward the bodies while the others headed toward the trees in the field that Lori had indicated. She stepped over to the fallen body of the young mother, trying not to be so aware of the bloody hole in the back of her head—trying not to acknowledge the fact that this was Miranda lying amongst the mass of rotting corpses. Seeing that her body was face down in the dirt, Jenna turned her over as gently as she could so that she was on her back. She closed the woman's eyes, trying not to take note of how cloudy and sunken in they were.

Glancing over toward the others, who'd begun the process of grave digging, Jenna headed off toward camp, located a spare blanket from hers and Dusty's tent, and returned to Miranda, covering her with it carefully. Lori and Dusty were already looking closer to tears every time they looked at what remained of their old friend.

With that taken care of, Jenna moved to go and join those who were digging graves, picking up a shovel that lay in the grass nearby. T-Dog and Andrea worked on one grave while Dusty and Daryl worked on another. Jenna joined Jimmy, who was digging on his own, and Lori went to gather large rocks to line the graves with once they'd been filled. Rick had stormed off, and Jenna wondered if he'd gone after Shane—or perhaps he'd gone to try and reason with Hershel, to bargain with him.

Ever the pessimist today, Jenna really didn't see that going well.

"Think this is deep enough?" Jimmy wondered after they'd been digging for just under an hour alongside the others.

Jenna leaned on the shovel, looking around at the width, length, and depth of the grave she was standing in, and nodded silently. She pulled the bandana from her back pocket and wiped the dirt and sweat from her face, while the fact that she'd gotten good at grave digging settled like stone in the pit of her stomach.

Jimmy climbed out of the grave and offered Jenna a hand up, which she accepted with a nod of thanks. He then ran back to the house to let the Greenes know they were ready to bury their dead. Meanwhile, T-Dog and Daryl got to work with lowering the bodies into the ground, starting with Miranda. They left the blanket over her, and while they worked on the other two bodies, Lori, Dusty, and Andrea stood around Miranda's grave, wiping at their stray tears.

Carol came to join them, to say a final goodbye to the young mother she'd known, and Jenna chose to stand off to the side, watching Daryl and T-Dog work rather than join in to mourn with the other women. She'd liked Miranda, and she'd trusted her with Thao's safety. The young woman was obviously a wonderful mother, and she'd admired, and maybe even envied that. But she hadn't known Miranda as long as the others, so she would've felt like an intruder upon grief that she didn't fully belong in.

She watched Daryl and T-Dog lower the last body into the excavated earth, and wondered how many more graves she would have to dig before she eventually found herself lying in one.

* * *

The service had been a very subdued event. Even the sobbing from Beth was barely audible, and the solemnity of the whole situation saturated the atmosphere like the thickest of fogs. Jenna had glanced at Hershel—who was dressed in his Sunday best—a few times to see that he looked startlingly…hollow. It wasn't dissimilar to the way Carol looked when they hadn't had any luck finding Sophia, and Jenna wished that there was a tangible solution to this family's grief the same way there had been when Sophia went missing. Once they'd found her, that grief and that pain was eradicated. But there was no bringing Annette and Shaun back to the Greene family. There was no curing this.

She couldn't imagine how hard this must've been for them. For Hershel especially. He'd believed so strongly that his wife and stepson were alive—that they weren't dead, but merely sick—and to be proven wrong in the worst of ways…to have that desperate hope ripped out from under him when that was all he'd been standing on…

She couldn't imagine it.

Deciding she might as well help clean up the mess she'd contributed to, Jenna helped Daryl, Dusty, T-Dog, and Andrea clear away the bodies in front of the barn. Admittedly, Jenna would have really rather not worked with Andrea at the moment, but she chose to help make sure the Greenes had as little to do with this as possible over being petty.

She was still kind of pissed off about almost being sliced open with that scythe.

Shane had stormed off somewhere, and Jenna told herself she didn't care—and refused to acknowledge what a glaring lie that was. She just threw all of her focus on the task at hand; loading bodies into the Ford for burning.

"A few more trips?" Rick asked as he approached, watching Jenna, Dusty, and Daryl load another body into the back of the truck.

"We got lucky," said Andrea, taking a drink of water while she and T-Dog paused to take a break. "If that barn had anymore, we could've been overrun."

"Good thing Shane did what he did, _when_ he did," T-Dog agreed.

"You can't tell me this was _right_," said Dale critically from where he stood, seeming to be keeping watch, though over what, Jenna couldn't say. If he was worried about walkers being attracted by all the gunfire earlier, then he should've been on top of the RV, where his vantage point was much better.

But, she kept her mouth shut. She didn't trust herself to be able to speak without snapping at some unsuspecting individual. _Keep your mouth shut, and keep the peace._

"It wasn't," Rick concurred adamantly. "And it'll cost us with Hershel."

"He's grieving, he'll come around," said Andrea, completely offhandedly. "They all will."

Jenna couldn't help the disgusted breath that spat from her lips as she, Dusty, and Daryl finished positioning the body so that it wouldn't roll away, and shook her head slightly to herself. So much for not being petty—tolerance be damned.

"Got something to say, Jenna?" Andrea asked pointedly.

"Not a fucking thing," said Jenna flatly as she walked away, deciding it would be better for everyone if she and Andrea weren't within a twenty-foot radius of each other.

* * *

Jenna knocked on the front door of the Greene house, and was let in by Patricia a few moments later. A visit with Thao, who was still under Carol's mindful watch, and the walk from the barn to the house had cooled her off a bit, thankfully, so she was no longer radiating frustration and fury.

"Are you all okay?" Jenna asked the woman sincerely, feeling like she shouldn't have even set foot in the house after the event down at the barn, but needing to know all the same. "If there's _anything_ I can do for you, just name it…" she said, running a hand through her hair, feeling helpless and guilty and sympathetic all at once.

"You wouldn't happen to've seen Hershel recently, would you?" Patricia asked hopefully.

Jenna shook her head. "I thought he must've been in here."

Patricia shook her head then, an anxious hint to her expression. "We can't find 'im anywhere. Beth's in some kinda state of shock, an' we don't know what to do…"

"God…" Jenna sighed, running a hand through her hair again. What had they done to that poor girl?

Patricia led her upstairs and into the guestroom where Maggie had lain Beth down to rest, and hopefully recover. Glenn stood off to the side of the room, looking solemn and helpless. Jenna stood just beyond the threshold, gazing down at the girl, who was staring blankly up at the ceiling, completely unresponsive no matter how much Maggie tried to get her to interact in some way.

Rick appeared in the doorway at Jenna's left, looking in at Beth with concerned eyes. "Ya said ya can't find your father anywhere?" he asked Maggie, who shook her head. "Ya mind if we take a look 'round 'is room, see if we can get an idea as to where he went?"

Maggie hesitated, and then nodded, straightening to stand, removing her hand from her sister's. "I'll show you," she said, moving through the doorway as Patricia took her place at Beth's side.

Rick met Jenna's eyes and tilted his head, motioning for her to come with him, and she stepped out into the hallway after him, noticing for the first time that Shane and Lori were in the hallway. Shane gave a small nod in Rick's direction, which she took to be an indication for her to move ahead of him, and so she did.

She was angry at Shane. More angry than made sense, really, but she didn't dwell on that for the moment—there were more pressing matters at hand.

Maggie and Glenn led them into Hershel's bedroom, and Jenna stepped in a bit slowly, taking it all in, feeling as though they were trespassing. There were boxes all over the bed, filled with what looked like linens, personal trinkets, jewelry—women's things.

"Your stepmother's things?" Rick presumed, looking through one of the boxes.

Maggie sighed, leaning against the dresser at the left side of the room. "He was so sure she'd recover…an' they'd just pick up where they left off."

"Looks like he found an old friend," said Shane in a subdued tone, waving an old hipflask slightly, apparently having found it on the antique bureau he was leaning on. He tossed it over to Rick, who caught it and turned it over in his hands once, deliberating.

"That belonged to my grandfather," said Maggie, taking it from him and studying it intently. "Gave it to dad when he died…"

"I didn't take Hershel for a drinker," mused Rick.

Maggie shook her head. "No, he gave it up on the day I was born—he didn't even allow liquor in the house," she said.

Yeah, neither had Jenna's father, but her mom had always found a way around that. She held her hand out to Maggie. "Can I see that?" she asked.

Maggie passed it to her, and Jenna turned the flask over in her hand, testing the weight and noting that it was empty. She gave it a little shake, and the lack of sound from within told her that it was completely dry.

"Empty," she mused, spinning off the cap and putting the flask under her nose, and detecting no hint of the scent of alcohol. "Been that way for a while," she deduced, tossing it back to Rick.

He put the flask under his nose then, and set it down on the bed. "What's the bar in town?" he asked Maggie, seeming to be thinking along the same lines as Jenna.

"Hatlan's," Maggie replied. "He practically lived there in his drinkin days."

"Bettin that's where I'll find 'im," said Rick, and Jenna nodded in agreement.

Where had her mother gone when her father had rid their entire house of every single bottle and can of alcohol during one of his raids? Directly to the nearest bar, and she usually wouldn't return until four in the morning, dropped off at the house by a stranger.

"Yeah, I've seen the place," said Glenn, straightening up. "I'll take you there."

"Alright, I'll get the truck," said Rick, moving past Jenna to exit the room, while Lori and Shane both straightened up, Lori shooting her husband a look of furious disbelief.

"No," said Maggie, grabbing Glenn's arm to stop him when he moved to follow after Rick.

"What?" asked Glenn, frowning in puzzlement. "It's an easy run."

"Like the pharmacy?" Maggie challenged.

Jenna, seeing at least something she could do to help these people, clapped Glenn lightly on the shoulder. "I'll go with you," she told him, hoping Maggie would feel a little better knowing he had extra backup, and he nodded in thanks.

Maggie looked far from mollified, however, and she seemed to be about to protest again when Rick stepped back into the room. "Maggie?" he said, a hint of humor in his voice. "I'll bring him back," he assured her, and nodded at Glenn and Jenna as he turned again to leave.

Jenna moved to leave after him, going to say goodbye to Thao before she left, and heard Lori call after her husband in a sharp, angry tone. She moved along, passing Rick so that she didn't have to bear witness to what was sure to be a dispute, and headed back down the stairs. She needed to get her machete, and it would probably be wise for her to take an extra magazine along with her Beretta, just in case.

"Jenna," Shane said, coming down the stairs after her. "Jenna, hold up a minute."

She sighed, knowing she would have to face him sooner or later, and stopped in the entryway, turning around as he approached.

"You jus' gonna take off?" he demanded in a low voice. "To hell with everybody else?"

She gave him a reproving glare. "Don't try and give me a guilt-trip, Shane," she said, shaking her head. "If you think it'll keep me here, you're wasting your time," she added as she turned to head for the door again.

He caught her by the arm to stop her, and even though he hadn't put much force into his grasp at all, she yanked her arm out of his hold, pinning him with a glare.

"_Don't_ grab me like that, man," she said, and she was sure he could hear that it was a warning.

He put his hands up then, taking a step back to give her a bit of space. "I'm sorry," he said, and she believed him. "I didn't mean—I jus'—" he ran his hand through his hair, "—I don't think you should be goin out there like this. Puttin yourself in harm's way like that. Not today, not for this."

She narrowed her eyes. "Not for _this_?" she mirrored. "You don't think _this_ is worth going out on a limb for?"

He stepped toward her again, looking at her intently, trying to get her to understand, she could see. "You've got your own things to worry 'bout, okay?" he pointed out, and she felt the anger starting to rise up within her again. "You really gonna leave Thao behind to go off solvin other people's problems?"

"Leave my kid out of this," she said immediately, glaring at him.

"I'm sorry, but he's already in this," Shane maintained bluntly.

Fighting the urge to blow up on him too, Jenna forced herself to stay in place rather than advancing on him. It was a struggle to resist the impulse to be hurtful and point out the fact that if he had just waited a bit longer before flying off the handle and jumping to one rushed conclusion and sticking to it, Thao wouldn't potentially be without a place to sleep for the night. But she didn't want to be petty and cruel—he'd been sure that he was doing what was necessary.

"Don't worry about me and my kid," she said angrily, still struggling to contain herself. "And don't worry about whose problems I spend my time solving."

He seemed to be growing as frustrated as she was. "_Damn it_, Jenna—"

"That girl just lost her mother and her brother today," she said, pointing up in the direction of the room Beth was lying practically comatose in. "I think the least I can do is make sure she doesn't lose her father today too."

"Why's it gotta be you?" Shane demanded, not backing down. "Why can't you jus' let someone else go in your place—it doesn't have'ta be you."

"Because it _is_ my place," she said intently, working to keep her voice down, but struggling to contain her temper. _I told Hershel we could work this out… _She paused, sighing and running a hand through her hair as she tried to compose herself the best that she could manage, and started again. "Listen, I'm not just going out there for this family, okay? I'm doing this for Thao, hoping that I can keep him from being uprooted from the place he's come to love so much."

He took a step back then, nodding as he took her in anew, a humorless half-smirk adorning his face. "So that's what this is about, huh?" he said dryly. "Goin off to try an' fix my mistake?"

Feeling that it would be petty indeed to tell him that she didn't think much good would come out of him trying to fix it, she just turned back around to head for the door. She didn't want to have this conversation. It wasn't going anywhere good for either of them.

She'd just made it to the door when he cut her off by putting his hand on it to keep it closed before she could even reach for the handle.

"You think I made a mistake," he said, and it sounded stunningly similar to an accusation. "You think clearin out that barn full'a walkers was a mistake, right?" he said, prodding her to confess. "You don't think I did the right thing."

For a moment, all she could do was look up at him, meeting his accusing gaze with her own. The tension between them was almost palpable, it had built up so much so quickly.

"No, Shane," she said, shaking her head slightly. "You did the right thing," she told him, and she could tell that the blunt honesty in her tone caught him off guard slightly. "But in this case…the right thing was carried out in the worst way possible. Things didn't have to be this extreme. You could've just waited…"

The sound of soft footsteps at her right caught her attention, and she shifted her eyes over to see Rick approaching the entryway cautiously.

She turned her eyes back to Shane, who didn't seem to have noticed his friend's appearance. "Move your arm, please," she said in an undertone.

Seeming to be pulled from a slight stupor, he removed his hand from the door, and she sighed slightly before tearing her eyes away from his and exiting the house. How much of that conversation Rick had heard, she didn't know, and if he was going to have a discussion with Shane about it, she didn't want to be around to hear that. She didn't think she could handle much more strain on her temper today.

She made her way toward the camp, where Carol and Dusty were entertaining Sophia and Thao with a game of Go Fish, with Dale up on watch at the roof of the RV.

"Mama, me and Dusty are winning!" Thao said excitedly when he noticed her approaching them.

She smiled while Carol, Sophia, and Dusty all laughed lightly, Dusty ruffling his hair. It was good to see that they seemed to have cheered up a bit since the small funeral. She came up to where he sat at the table, lowering down to his eye-level so that he would listen attentively.

"I'm gonna have to go somewhere for a little while," she told him, and his big black eyes peered up at her in question. "Me, Rick, and Glenn are going for a run into town. But we'll be back, alright, buddy? I promise."

He nodded, albeit a bit reluctantly. "When will you come back?"

"As soon as I possibly can," she assured him. "I don't know how long I'll be gone, but I promise that I'll be back. Understand?"

"Yeah," he replied, getting out of his seat and wrapping his arms around her neck. "I'll miss you, mama."

"I know, baby, I'll miss you too," she whispered, holding him close and kissing his hair. "And that's why I'll be coming back—I can't be away from my boy for too long," she said, ruffling his hair and earning a giggle. She released him and held him by his shoulders. "You be good for Dusty and Carol. Do as they say, and don't wander off. Stay put."

He nodded. "Yes, mama."

She smiled and kissed his forehead before setting him back into his seat beside Dusty. "Thank you," she said to her and Carol. "I appreciate it. We shouldn't be long."

"Of course," said Carol kindly. "He's great—no trouble."

"Go on an' bring Hershel back," Dusty encouraged easily, and then put her arm around Thao's shoulders, holding their hand of cards so he could see them. "C'mon, big guy, you gotta help me out here…"

A wave of guilt washed over her as she moved away from the table. Shane had definitely hit a nerve. Maybe she did spend too much time going off to try and fix things, leaving Thao behind to be looked after by others. Dusty never seemed to mind in the slightest, and neither did Carol, but that didn't excuse the fact that Jenna was definitely slacking in her role as Thao's surrogate mother. She needed to step it up, and she decided that this would be the last little errand she ran without him.

She looked back over her shoulder when she heard him laughing with Sophia, enjoying the game. Well, at least he was happy.

Jenna smiled fondly, and then picked up her machete from its resting place beside their tent before heading to the Cherokee Rick and Glenn were preparing, passing Shane on her way. She caught his angry gaze briefly, before turning her eyes away. She passed Lori and Dale next, as they exited the house together. Lori seemed to have calmed down a bit, or was just resigned to the fact that Rick was going to do whatever he saw fit, whether she liked it or not. The woman still seemed pissed off, based on the tone she used in the bit of conversation Jenna caught as she passed the two of them.

"This place is goin to hell," Dale muttered.

"I'm tryin hard to forget that," Lori replied.

Hmm. She and Jenna seemed to be on the same page this time. She didn't stick around to here anymore, but just continued on her way. This place _was_ starting to go to hell, and she feared that things may have been too far gone to repair. Their only hope was reaching Hershel. Making things right with him. Hopefully, that would amend this situation.

"How's your magazine?" Rick asked her when she reached the car.

"About half full, I think," she replied, pulling the Beretta from her belt and releasing the magazine to check. "Yeah, half."

"Here," he said, handing her a filled one.

"Thanks," she said, replacing the first magazine into her gun and stowing the new one into her pocket, moving around to the door of the car. "Ready to go?" she asked him.

"Jus' waitin on Glenn," he said, jerking his head toward the porch.

Jenna followed his inclination to see Glenn at the foot of the porch steps with Maggie in his arms, the two of them lip-locked as though they wouldn't be seeing each other for an unimaginable length of time. She breathed out a light laugh and opened the car door, sliding into the backseat, stretching her legs out along the empty upholstery, while Rick claimed the driver's seat.

Eventually, Glenn joined them, riding shotgun, and they were making their way off the property in the next moment. Jenna kept her eyes on the campsite for as long as she could, and then rested her head back, closing her eyes.

Daryl was right—it had certainly turned out to be one _helluvuh_ day.

* * *

**Note:**

Okay, I know it's taking an extremely long time for Jenna & Shane to get together, but fret not. It's coming in just a few more chapters. The way I have it worked out, it'll be official Shane/Jenna as of chapter 50. Hopefully that's not too dreadfully far off the horizon for you, but, believe me, I'd planned to wait even longer. (I'm awful, I know, lol.)

A question I wanted to run by you guys is, what would you say to reading from someone else's POV sometime in future chapters? I'm not sure when/if it'll happen, or who it'll be. But would that be something you'd like to see? Just curious.

As ever, thanks for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following this story! I'm so glad you like it.


	47. Red Hands

**Disclaimer: I'm not the owner of The Walking Dead, truly and honestly. No copyright intended.**

**Warning: **Rated M for language, violence, gore, and eventual smut.

* * *

_"And there is nothing more dangerous in this world, in any world, than someone calm, clear, and angry."_

_—Audrey Hart_

* * *

Red Hands

The ride was mostly quiet, which Jenna appreciated. After everything that had happened today, a little peace and quiet was a luxury. And, it gave her the opportunity to attempt to organize her thoughts for the first time since everything had started to tumble downhill.

They'd been driving for about a half hour when Glenn finally spoke.

"How did this even happen?" he asked, his voice faraway and defeated.

It sounded as though he'd been pondering the question for some time, and now he couldn't keep himself from getting the words out. Needing an answer. Some sort of answer, no matter how vague or feeble.

Jenna didn't have to ask to know what he was referring to. How the walker slaughter down at the barn had happened was obvious. How they'd ended up heading into town to retrieve an emotionally distraught Hershel was also obvious. How Miranda had ended up in that barn before they'd even arrived at the Greene farm…_that_ was the mystery.

When Rick answered, his voice was little more than a weary sigh. "I dunno…"

"I mean, they were supposed to be on their way to Birmingham," Glenn went on, needing to vent more than he needed answers, Jenna guessed. "I knew their odds weren't very good on their own, with only one gun for protection, but…but…God, just…why Miranda, you know? Why did it have to be someone who was so…_good_, and kind?"

"I dunno," Rick said again, sounding weary still, but not impatient. The man had the patience of a saint, Jenna had noticed. "Must've run into trouble on the way shortly after leavin the quarry. Got caught up in a herd like we did, or somethin, an' Miranda didn't make it."

"Do you think the rest are still alive?" Glenn asked after a pause, and his voice was only half hopeful by that point.

"Maybe," said Rick, though there was no real conviction in his tone, either. "Truth is, we may never know. We may never know any of it. Tough as it is, we jus' gotta move on to what we can control. We buried her, an' that's the best we can do for her, an' her family. Now we gotta make things right for our own, because that's all we can do."

Glenn seemed like he wanted to say more, but decided to keep his thoughts to himself.

A few minutes later, the car slowed to a stop and Jenna opened her eyes to see the town for the first time. And she very quickly deduced that it was the smallest town she had ever seen before in her life. But she didn't see any bodies littering the area, so that was a pleasant surprise.

They stepped out onto the pavement, looking around the area warily. Rick and Glenn held their guns at the ready as they moved along, and Jenna loosened the machete from her belt, not seeing any immediate reason for her firearm. The place looked like a ghost town; completely vacant and silent. It was actually a little eerie.

Glenn pointed out the bar, and they made their way to the entrance. Rick held out a hand to keep them back, and he pushed the door open, his Colt Python drawn as he stepped onto the threshold.

They could see no danger within the dusty old tavern, but they did find Hershel immediately, sitting alone at the bar directly ahead of them, his back turned to them. Jenna spotted the opened bottle of scotch in front of him, and the filled glass in his hand.

They stepped into the bar, lowering their weapons, and Glenn closed the door behind them.

"Hershel?" Rick asked carefully.

"Who's with ya?" the old man responded without turning around.

"Glenn, an' Jenna," said Rick, holstering his gun.

"Maggie send 'im?" Hershel asked, amusement in his voice.

"Him an' Jenna both volunteered," Rick answered while Jenna eyed the other doorways in the tavern; bathroom, backroom, and pool room. "They're good like that."

Rick moved toward Hershel at a slow, easy pace, and Jenna moved to the doorway of the pool room at her left, giving the small room a quick scan before moving over to the bathroom to do the same. Not finding any danger, she returned to the bar. She would have liked to take a look inside the backroom just to be thorough, but she didn't want to interrupt Rick's discussion with Hershel. And, she figured that if there was any danger in that room, it would have made itself known before now, as long as Hershel had been there.

"How many've ya had?" Rick asked the old man, eyeing the bottle of scotch.

"About enough," muttered Hershel.

Rick nodded, and then leaned in to speak to him again, as was his habit. "Let's finish this up back at home," he suggested. "Beth _collapsed_—she's in some…sorta state. Must be in shock, I think you are too."

Hershel looked back a Rick for a moment. "Maggie's with her?" he presumed.

"Yeah," Rick admitted, "but Beth needs you."

"What could I do?" asked Hershel, turning back to look at the glass in his hand. "She needs her mother—or rather to mourn…like she shoulda done weeks ago. I robbed her of that…I see that now."

"You thought there was a cure," said Rick. "You can't blame yourself for holdin out for hope."

Hershel was silent for a moment, and then, "Hope?" He shook his head slightly. "When I first saw you runnin across my field with your boy in your arms…I had little hope he'd survive."

"But he did," Rick pointed out.

"He did," agreed Hershel, nodding, "even though we lost Otis… Russell didn't make it, but your man Shane made it back…" Jenna felt like she'd just been punched in the chest, but kept her expression carefully neutral. "An' we saved your boy. That was the miracle that proved to me miracles do exist… Only it was a sham—a bait an' switch. I was a fool, Rick…and your people saw that. My daughters deserve better than that." With that, he swallowed down the remaining liquid in his glass, and grabbed the bottle, filling it up again. "Jenna, you knew I was wrong," he began again.

She moved forward and came to a stop in the middle of the room, not sure how close he would want her to get. "I did," she said softly.

"But you were willin to do things my way," he recalled, swirling the scotch around in the glass. "Placating me."

She ducked her head. "I was," she admitted.

Hershel nodded, though he still hadn't turned around to look at her. "For your boy," he understood.

"For my boy," she agreed honestly, and hopped up to sit upon the other bar that joined with the one Hershel was leaning on, making an L-shape. "But also for you. For your family…" she told him, setting the machete down on the bar beside her left thigh. "I wasn't intending to leave you in the dark forever, Hershel," she assured him, looking at the back of his head. "I'd just hoped that it would be a…gradual process," she finished regretfully.

"Merciful," Hershel noted dryly, taking a swig from the glass. "It's too bad _mercy_ wasn't enough stop your friend Shane."

Jenna closed her eyes reflexively, hanging her head slightly. "I'm sorry," she said sincerely.

Rick put a hand up toward her to keep her from saying any more, and looked down at Hershel, his expression having hardened a bit. "No, don't be sorry," he said, his eyes turning up to Jenna. "You have nothin to be sorry for." And then he turned his gaze back to Hershel. "Shane ain't exactly Jenna's responsibility," Rick defended, "this is not on her. An' even so, she did everything she could to try an' stop him. You wanna blame someone, blame me."

He moved away from Hershel, back toward the center of the bar, pacing. He seemed to be trying to gather his thoughts—or his composure, Jenna couldn't determine which one for sure. Or maybe it was a combination of the two.

"So what's your plan?" Rick asked him after a moment. "You gonna finish that bottle, drink yourself to death, an' leave your girls alone?"

Hershel got out of his seat then and spun around to glare at Rick. "Stop tellin me how to care for my family," he commanded, "my farm. You people are like a _plague_! I do the Christian thing, give ya shelter, and you _destroyed_ it all!"

"The world was already in bad shape when we met," Rick pointed out intently.

"And you take no responsibility," Hershel accused. "You're supposed to be their leader!"

"Well I'm here now!" Rick shot back. "Aren't I?"

Hershel seemed to consider that a moment before nodding slowly. "Yes…yes, you are," he said in a more subdued tone, and then moved back to reclaim his seat.

Rick strode toward him and stopped at his side. "Come on," he urged. "Your girls need you now, more than ever," he said, taking hold of Hershel's arm to try and guide him out of the barstool.

Hershel pulled his arm away and turned to look up at him. "I didn't want to believe you," he said. "You told me there was no cure, that these people were dead, not sick. I _chose_ not to believe that…but when Shane shot Lou in the chest, and she just kept comin…that's when I knew what an ass I'd been. That Annette had been dead _long_ ago, an' I was feeding her rotten corpse! That's when I knew there was no hope."

Jenna hung her head down again, biting her lip, wishing she didn't have to hear all of this. This was too personal—too horrible—to be shared with strangers like this.

"There is no hope," Hershel repeated to Rick. "An' I know it now…just like you do…right?"

Rick just looked to Glenn, and then to Jenna, unable to give the old man an answer, or even a negation.

"There is no hope for any of us," Hershel reiterated, pouring himself another glass.

"Look, I'm done," said Rick angrily. "I'm not doin this anymore. Cleanin up after you… You know what the truth is? _Nothing has changed_. Death is death, it's always been there, whether it's from a heart attack, cancer, or a walker—what's the difference? You didn't think it was hopeless before, did you? And now there are people back home tryin to hold on an' they _need_ us. Even if it's just to give them a reason to go on, even if we don't believe it ourselves… You know what? This isn't about what _we_ believe anymore, it's about _them_."

Hershel gazed back at Rick for a long moment, and then finished off the scotch in his bottle before turning the glass upside down and setting it on the table. Jenna breathed a small sigh of relief, highly impressed at Rick's persuasive negotiation skills, and glad that at least something hadn't ended in catastrophe today.

And then the front doors swung open, and Jenna could have kicked herself for being so presumptuous when two men she'd never seen before stood in the entrance of the bar.

"Son of a bitch…" said one of them, looking around at the four of them and then back at his friend, who was quite overweight. "They're alive," he said cheerfully.

Alarm bells that she hadn't heard since Russell came along were going off in her head suddenly, and she struggled to remain where she was, fighting the urge to grab her machete and hack at their limbs if they even got near her.

_Stay calm…you're not alone, just stay calm…_

"You folks mind sharin a drink?" the man asked them, still sounding strangely cheerful.

"Naw, not at all," Rick replied without missing a beat, seemingly thoroughly nonchalant as he waved them over to the table he stood beside.

The two men looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders, and moved forward obligingly. Jenna eyed their weapons while they moved; the thinner man had a SIG tucked in his belt, while the heavy man carried a double-barreled, sawn-off Mossberg strapped over his shoulder.

"I'm Dave," the thinner man introduced himself as he took a seat, looking up at Rick with a pleasant smile on his face. "That scrawny-lookin douchebag there is Tony," he added, nodding at the heavy man, who came to sit at a stool at the corner made by the two long bars.

Jenna was hyper-aware of their movements.

Tony laughed, and spoke in a voice strangely higher pitched than Jenna would've imagined belonged to such a large person. "Eat me, Dave."

"Hey, maybe someday I will," said Dave to Tony, taking the glass Rick had just poured. "We met on I-95 comin outta Philly. Damn shit joint that was," he said to Rick.

"I'm Glenn," said Glenn with a smile, introducing himself with a little wave—clearly untroubled by the presence of these two strangers. "It's nice to meet some new people," he added with a light laugh.

"Rick Grimes," said Rick more soberly, passing Glenn a glass of scotch.

"Hershel," the old man muttered.

Dave and Tony turned their eyes to Jenna expectantly, and she stared back between them for a moment, deliberating. Well, she might as well play along for now.

"Jenna Wolfe."

Dave grinned pleasantly. "Glenn," he said, glancing over at him. "She your girl?" he asked, nodding back in Jenna's direction.

"No one's girl," she said flatly.

That brought his gaze back to her, and he nodded graciously. "Just wonderin," he assured her easily, and Jenna just raised her brows briefly in response, unimpressed. "Well, Miss Wolfe, how about a drink?" Dave offered, tipping his glass to her invitingly.

When Jenna merely stared back at him, Rick answered for her. "Jenna's not much of a drinker," he said simply.

Dave gave her a little smile and shrugged, looking completely untroubled. "Alright," he said, and turned to Hershel. "How about you, Hersh? Have one?"

"I just quit," Hershel replied in a subdued tone.

Dave laughed. "You have a unique sense of timing, my friend," he noted as a glass was passed to Tony.

"He lost people today," said Rick, leaning back into a seat just two down from Hershel, placing him in between him and Glenn, who stood behind the bar. "A lot of them."

Dave's expression sobered then. "I'm truly sorry to hear that." He paused and raised his glass to them all. "To better days and new friends…and to our dead, may they be in a better place," he said, and tapped his shot glass down on the table before tossing it back in one swallow.

When he turned to reach for the bottle, he noticed Rick eyeing the SIG in his belt. He pulled it free and held it out so Rick could have a clear view.

"Not bad, huh?" he asked. "I got it off a cop," he added with a little chuckle.

"I'm a cop," said Rick, deadpan.

Dave looked up and gave Rick another smile. "This one was already dead," he assured Rick.

Jenna, who'd been glancing between Dave and Tony, noticed when the heavy man eyed Rick with a little more scrutiny than she would have liked—sizing up the opponent, it seemed. He was a mere ten or so feet from her right, and it wouldn't have taken long at all for her to reach him with her machete. But it would've taken even less time for Dave to hit her with a bullet.

She hadn't felt so on-edge in a long time, and she wondered if it was clouding her judgment. Maybe she just needed to calm down a bit. Just because these two strangers were men didn't necessarily mean they were an automatic threat. She'd learned that she could trust some people in all her time with the group, after all. Even if those people were men.

Still, she wasn't about to let her guard down.

As soon as Tony seemed to be about to glance over at her, she turned her eyes back to Dave, watching as he leaned back in his seat comfortably, facing Rick.

"You fellas are a long way from Philadelphia," Rick commented.

"Feels like we're a long way from anywhere," Dave replied.

"Well, what drove ya south?" Rick asked, sounding only mildly interested, as he took a sip of scotch from his glass. Just a sip to maintain the peace, not nearly enough to cloud his judgment. He was well aware that he needed to keep his wits about him.

"I can tell you it wasn't the weather," Dave muttered, running his fingers over his eyes. "I musta dropped thirty pounds in sweat alone down here."

"Yeah, I wish," griped Tony.

"First it was D.C.," Dave continued. "Heard there might be some kinda refugee camp, but…the roads were so jammed we never even got close, so we decided to get off the highways and into the sticks, keep haulin ass… Every group we came across had a new rumor about a way outta this thing."

"One guy told us there was a coast guard down by the gulf, sendin ferries to the islands," Tony supplied, rolling his eyes.

"The latest was a rail yard in Montgomery runnin trains through the middle of the country," said Dave. "Kansas, Nebraska…"

"Nebraska?" Glenn asked, puzzled.

"Low population, lots of guns," Tony explained.

Glenn nodded, frowning appreciatively. "Kinda makes sense," he noted, taking a drink from his glass of scotch.

"You ever been to Nebraska, kid?" Dave asked him. "There's a reason they call em flyover states." He and Tony shared a laugh, and when he realized that no one else was as amused as they were, he looked around at them, settling his gaze to Rick once more—it was clear who the leader was. "How about you guys?"

_Don't worry about it_, Jenna's mind responded immediately, but she remained silent, keeping her gaze between Dave and Tony in equal measure.

"Fort Benning, eventually," said Rick, omitting their current location.

"Well, I hate to piss in your cornflakes, officer, but, um…" Dave began, "we ran across a grunt who was stationed at Benning. Said the place was overrun by lame-brains."

"Wait, Fort Benning is gone?" Glenn asked, looking startled. "Are you for real?"

"Sadly, I am," replied Dave.

Jenna wasn't exactly upset by that bit of news, and she moved her legs back and forth from where they dangled from the bar, just waiting for this little get-together to end. She did not want to be near these people any longer than she had to. The ever-shifting eyes of Tony's were raking across her body in quick, subtle trips more often than she would have preferred, and she wished more than ever for her baggy cargo pants, regretting now that she'd opted for the slimmer jeans that morning. Red flags were going up everywhere as far as he was concerned, and if Dave was any worse, then she knew there was going to be a problem. They hadn't seen her gun yet, though. That was something.

"Ugly truth is…there is no way outta this mess," Dave went on, and Jenna was reluctant to find that they seemed to agree on something. "Just keep going from one pipe dream to the next, prayin one of these mindless freaks doesn't grab you in your sleep."

"_If_ you sleep," Tony qualified.

"Yeah, it doesn't look like you guys are hangin your hats here," said Dave, looking around at the bar. More alarm bells sounded off in Jenna's head. "You holed up somewhere else?"

_None of your fucking business, _thought Jenna.

"Not really," said Rick, leaning back against the bar and maintaining eye-contact with Dave.

Dave didn't look convinced as he considered Rick's answer. "Those your cars out front?" he asked, jerking a thumb toward the door.

"Yeah," said Glenn, and Jenna might have punched him in the jaw if she were near enough. "Why?"

"Well, we're livin outta ours," said Dave. "Those look, uh…kinda empty, clean. Where's all your gear?" he questioned with a little shrug, as though not really that interested.

"We're with a larger group out scouting," Hershel told him, and Jenna was glad he'd spoken before Glenn could. "We thought we could use a drink."

She really couldn't blame Glenn, though. It wasn't that he was clueless, it was just that he was too trusting of people. Jenna, on the other hand, was still in the process of relearning how to trust people again—but she didn't trust either of these men as far as she could toss Tony.

Dave grinned pleasantly again. "A _drink_—Hershel, I thought you quit," he said, and turned his gaze toward Jenna. "And the lady here doesn't drink."

"I'm chaperoning," said Jenna simply, picking at a loose thread in the knee of her jeans, feigning disinterest.

Dave chuckled lightly. "That so, honey?" he said, sounding a bit doubtful. _Honey? _Jenna thought, raising a brow at him. "Well, we're thinkin of settin up around here," he said, turning back to Rick. "Is it safe?"

"It can be," replied Glenn honestly, and Rick looked like he shared Jenna's sentiments. _Keep your mouth shut, Glenn. _"Though, I've killed a couple walkers around here," he qualified.

"Walkers? That what you call em?" Dave asked, sounding amused.

"Yeah," said Glenn with a laugh.

Dave nodded appreciatively. "That's good, I like that. I like that better than lame-brains," he said with a shrug. He and Tony exchanged a glance, and Jenna narrowed her eyes—something had passed between them. "So, what?" Dave began again, looking back to Rick. "You guys set up on the outskirts, or somethin? Housing development?"

"Trailer park, or somethin?" Tony asked, rising out of his seat and moving over to the other side of the bar. "Farm?"

"_Old McDonald had a farm_," Dave sang under his breath.

Tony laughed, and turned his back to the rest of them, the sound of his belt and zipper telling them what he was doing. Jenna definitely did not like how comfortable they seemed to be around the rest of them—for more than just the obvious reason that Tony's behavior was disgusting. They were too comfortable. Too…confident.

"You got a farm?" Dave asked Rick.

Rick didn't answer, for he was giving Tony's turned back a look of mild revulsion as he began using the hardwood floor as a toilet, singing under his breath.

"Is it safe?" Dave asked, as though Rick had confirmed his previous question. "It's gotta be."

"You're lucky you got cooze," said Tony, looking over his shoulder at them briefly. "I ain't had a piece of ass in _weeks_," he finished with a little laugh.

"Hey," said Rick sharply—a warning—while he, Glenn, and Hershel straightened up a bit.

Dave sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Ahh, listen—pardon my friend. City kids, they got no tact. No disrespect," he assured them, and then turned back to Jenna. "I'm sorry, honey, he don't mean anything by it."

"Hm," was all she replied with.

"Jenna's a city kid, she's got plenty of tact," said Rick pointedly.

Dave turned back to her, that pleasant smile attached to his face again. "Oh yeah?" he asked. "Where you from, honey?"

"Doesn't matter," she said flatly.

He laughed under his breath, putting his hands up in a show of retreat. "Fair enough, fair enough," he conceded. He turned back to the others. "So listen, Glenn—"

"We've said enough," said Rick bluntly.

"Well, hang on a second," Dave insisted, utterly relaxed. "This farm sounds pretty sweet—don't it sound sweet, Tony?"

"Yeah," agreed Tony, zipping up his pants. "Real sweet."

Jenna blew out a quick breath of wry laughter, being sure to keep her posture as relaxed and untroubled as Dave's. "That's funny, considering we haven't said anything about a farm."

Dave turned to her, an imploring note to his gaze. "Ahh, c'mon, honey—how about a little southern hospitality?"

"I'm not southern—hospitality really isn't my thing."

"Yeah?" he asked, his pleasant grin beginning to morph into a leer. "What _is_ your thing?"

"Hey, don't talk to her, talk to me," said Rick sharply.

Dave put his hands up briefly again, turning back around to look at Rick, who was giving him a cold expression. "Alright, hoss, alright," he agreed. "Listen, uh…we got some bodies back at camp, been havin a real hard time. I don't see why you can't make room for a few more. We could pool our resources—our manpower."

Jenna refrained from pointing out the fact that Dave had just screwed up. He'd said just a few minutes ago that he and Tony were living out of their car—but they had others back at their _camp_? She didn't call attention to this, however, because it was hardly necessary. Rick was a smart man. He'd heard the same mistake she did. This little interlude was going down one road, and judging by Rick's demeanor, he was well aware of that.

"Look, I'm sorry, that's not an option," said Rick calmly, shaking his head.

Dave frowned, shrugging his shoulders innocently. "Doesn't sound like it'd be a problem," he said reasonably.

"I'm sorry, we can't," said Hershel.

"We can't take in anymore," Rick offered by way of explanation.

Dave gave a little breath of laughter. "You guys are somethin else," he said, scratching at his eyebrow. "You know, I—I thought we were friends."

Jenna scoffed lightly, shaking her head. Tony looked up at her again, both leering and glaring, and Dave turned her gaze back toward her for a moment, before turning back to Rick, seeming to remember his warning.

"Hey, you know…we've got people we've gotta look out for too," Dave began in a reasoning tone.

Rick shrugged. "We don't know anything about you."

Dave nodded slowly. "That's true," he agreed, his voice taking on a more somber pitch, looking back at Rick imploringly—playing the victim. "You don't know anything about us. You don't know what we've had to go through out there. Things we've had to do. I bet you've had to do some of those same things yourself, am I right?"

_Some of those things, not _all_ of those things_, Jenna specified internally. They were steadily moving down a one-way road, and she was itching to grab for her machete.

"See, ain't nobody's hands clean in what's left of this world," Dave explained. "We're all the same."

"Nobody's hands are clean," Jenna agreed, and Dave looked over at her again, "but I know exactly how much blood I have on mine. I don't know anything about yours," she finished, her eyes moving back up to Tony, who had yet to stop leering at her. His face had begun to take on that same predatory gaze she'd seen in Russell—in that man in the alley. "We're hardly the same."

Dave gave a little chuckle, scratching his eyebrow again. "Your girl's somethin else, ain't she?" he said to Rick, who was staring back at him, stony-faced. "C'mon, let's…let's take a nice, friendly hayride to this farm, and we'll get to know each other," he suggested pleasantly.

"That's not gonna happen," Rick answered.

"Rick…" Dave implored.

"This is _bullshit_," spat Tony, looking away from Jenna for the first time since he'd turned back around.

"Calm down," Rick said to him.

Tony turned on him. "Don't tell me to calm down," he shot back. "Don't _ever_ tell me to calm down—"

"_Whoa—_" said Dave, trying to maintain the peace.

"I'll shoot you three assholes, take your bitch, _and_ your damn farm!" Tony went on.

Rick stood swiftly out of his seat and he and Tony began striding toward each other, Rick's hand over his holstered Python, Tony's shotgun slung over his shoulder.

"Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa!" said Dave, jumping to his feet and putting his hands up as he moved to stand between them. "_Relax_…" He looked over his shoulder toward Jenna. "My apologies, honey, he don't mean anything by it—just a hothead is all."

Jenna's eyes were on Tony, however, who was glaring at Rick. "I'd like to see you try," she said flatly.

Tony's eyes cut to her then, and he took note of the machete she now held in her left hand, the long blade resting across her knees.

"Take it easy," Dave encouraged all of them, that annoyingly pleasant smile still hitched onto his face as he lowered his arms. "Just relax," he repeated, clapping Rick on the shoulder. "Nobody's killin anybody. Nobody's shootin anybody, right Rick?"

He moved to climb over the bar Jenna was seated on, and she moved immediately to the floor, keeping her back pointed at the door, giving her the best vantage-point and keeping them from spotting her Beretta. Dave took note of her quick movement and gave her a rueful smile, looking back at Rick briefly before returning his gaze to her.

"No worries, honey, no one's takin you anywhere," he assured her, setting his SIG down on the bar in front of him.

"No, they're not," she agreed, glaring back at him. "And I'm not your _honey_."

He gave her another rueful smile, shaking his head slightly. "My apologies, ma'am," he said then, and looked back toward Rick.

Jenna took note of Tony's stance, seeing that he had yet to draw his shotgun. But when she noticed him eyeing her up and down again, she saw his eyes land on the machete in her hand. As long as he thought that was her only weapon, he didn't see her as a threat, which suited her just fine.

"Just friends havin a drink, that's all," said Dave pleasantly. "Now, where's the good stuff?" he wondered, looking around at the shelves behind the bar searchingly. "Good stuff, good stuff, good stuff…"

He leaned down to reach for something, and Rick put his hand on the handle of his revolver immediately—an action that did not go unnoticed by Dave or Tony.

Dave paused, keeping his eyes on Rick, and pulled out a bottle of Soco, a wide grin on his face. "Look at that," he said, holding it up to show them. "That'll work…" he mused, twisting off the cap and grabbing another glass. "You gotta understand," he began again, pouring a drink, "we can't stay out there. You know what it's like."

"I know exactly what it's like," said Jenna flatly, tired of the show he'd been putting on. "I made it out there on my own for weeks—you don't hear me complaining."

Dave gave her a little chuckle. "You've got no reason to complain anymore, do ya?" he inquired, raising the glass to his lips. "I'd say you're pretty well off—us, on the other hand…"

"You don't look like you've missed many meals to me," she said bluntly, cutting her eyes to Tony.

"Ain't she somethin else?" said Dave pleasantly before Tony could spit back at her, as he was definitely about to. He turned his gaze back to Rick. "We've got people to look out for, Rick…I'm sure you can understand that."

"Yeah, I do," said Rick, staring back at Dave intently. "But you'll have to keep lookin—I'm sorry."

Dave lost the grin pretty quickly then. "Keep lookin," he repeated, nodding, both hands on the bar in front of him. "Where do you suggest we do that?"

"I don't know," replied Rick with a shrug. "I hear Nebraska's nice."

Dave laughed then, all of his good humor seeming to return on the spot. Overdoing it a bit, really. "Nebraska…" he mirrored, his eyes flashing over to Tony for the briefest of seconds. "This guy…"

The smile vanished from his face in an instant, and as he grabbed his gun and began to raise it, Rick beat him to the punch, whipping the revolver from its holster and shooting Dave in the head in one fluid motion. A spray of dark red blasted a large spot on the wall behind him as his body fell.

Jenna had her Beretta pulled from her belt in the next moment, raising it on Tony, who wasn't even looking at her while he moved the shotgun from his shoulder, his intent obviously being to shoot Rick. Out of habit, she aimed for his head, even though he wasn't a walker, and pulled the trigger, sending a bullet just beneath his right eye.

The fat bastard's finger squeezed the trigger of his shotgun as he went down, blasting a hole in the ceiling. Bits of debris crumbled down onto him as his lifeless body rocked and tumbled to the floor, taking one of the small tables down with him.

Rick turned around and glared down at Tony's body, being sure it was a clean shot, Jenna guessed. He turned his eyes up to hers, and gave her a nod, which she returned. The darkened set of his eyes said it all—he was not the same man he'd been when he'd entered that bar.

She turned her gaze back to the fat son of a bitch lying on the floor, bleeding out through his head, glaring hatefully. He'd just brought her murder count up from three to four. No matter how far she ran or how much she tried, things always seemed to circle back to this; her need to commit murder. This world had taken everything from her already, and still, it continued to ravage her in the worst of ways. And it would never stop, she knew. No, this world would never stop forcing her to be something she didn't want to be.

And it was clear from Glenn's widened eyes and Hershel's shell-shocked demeanor that she could no longer hide what she was from them anymore. How calm had she just been as she put a bullet in a living man's head, after all? They'd seen it. The killer instinct that she'd been hiding.

The blood on her hands was no longer only visible to her and Shane.

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**Note:**

I'm going to ask this question again, since I didn't get any responses to it last chapter. Would you guys like to read from someone else's POV? I'm just curious, because if you are, then I might give it a try. Any suggestions on _who_ would be welcome. I was thinking Rick, but if you'd like to hear from someone else, please let me know.

Also, to respond to a guest reviewer, yes, I screwed up back in chapter seven when I did that with Rick and Jenna. It wasn't until later that I started doing a bit of research before writing. But, as for Dusty's Taurus, it's a model 85, which does have a safety. I made sure I did the research on that one, at least. Thank you for pointing it out, it's good to have reviewers like you to keep me on my toes, lol.

Thank you for reading and reviewing!


	48. It's What We Do

**Disclaimer: You know the drill. I don't own The Walking Dead, Robert Kirkman does. No copyright intended.**

**Warning: **Rated M for language, violence, gore, and eventual smut.

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_"Hell is empty and all the devils are here."_

_—William Shakespeare_

* * *

It's What We Do 

_SPOV_

Shane stood out on the front porch of the Greenes' house, leaning against the banister with his hands, watching the road. It was nightfall—they should have been back by now.

He looked over his shoulder, peering into the living room window. Thao was sitting in on the piano bench, facing the other way, watching Carl and Sophia play checkers on the floor. Dusty sat beside him, running her hand up and down his back in slow, soothing motions, knowing he was growing more and more upset by Jenna's absence.

He looked back toward the road, breathing out a frustrated sigh. Why hadn't he just gone in her place? If it would have kept her from leaving, he would have gone in a heartbeat—but he doubted she would have agreed to that. She was off fixing his mistake for him, and seemed to have decided that he couldn't fix it himself. He could have, if he thought there was something to fix in the first place.

He'd done the right thing. He knew that, and Jenna had even agreed with him. But, he'd done it in the wrong way. Or the _worst way possible_, to use Jenna's words. He thought of Beth upstairs, and winced eyes briefly. Perhaps there was more truth to that than he'd originally thought. If he'd done the right thing in the wrong way, then what the hell was the _right_ way?

"Ay—Patricia's got dinner ready for us," said Daryl, standing over the threshold, one hand holding the front door open as he leaned out of the house.

Patricia had prepared a dinner for everyone with Dusty and Carol's help, and had invited them all inside for the meal. He guessed that she was trying to keep their minds at ease with polite hospitality.

Shane hadn't ventured into the house too much. He'd felt like he was trespassing every time he set foot through that door. It was strange how doing the right thing could make a person feel so damn guilty.

"Thanks, man, I'm good," he said, glancing back at him briefly.

"You sure?" Daryl asked.

"Yeah," he replied. "I'm good, you go ahead."

Daryl paused at the threshold, seeming to be about to say something, but then someone else moved through the doorway, shoving past Daryl. Shane glanced back again to see Andrea walking moodily down the porch steps and trudging away in the direction of camp. She'd been acting that way all day.

"You know what her problem is?" he asked Daryl, watching her storm away.

Daryl huffed out a breath of laughter. "Dusty told her off down at the barn when we were clearin bodies," he said amusedly.

"Oh yeah?" Shane asked, thankful for the small distraction.

"Oh yeah," said Daryl, sounding impressed.

"What'd she say?"

Daryl let out another breath of laughter, leaning back against the doorframe, watching Andrea's retreating back as she neared camp. "Said a whole lot, actually," he replied, "but I think the finer point of the rant was 'get the fuck off your high-horse, 'cause the rest of us are gettin real tired of your shit.'"

And Shane had to laugh then. That sounded a lot like something Dusty would say.

"She really say that?" he asked, amused.

Daryl nodded. "'Bout damn time, " he muttered. "Don't know about the rest o' y'all, but I've been tired of her shit for a while too. Dusty was damn near ready to slit her throat a while ago."

Shane spat out a breath. "Yeah, I think we all were, after that little stunt with the scythe. Damn near killed both her an' Jenna."

They stopped talking when Andrea approached the porch again, looking thoroughly pissed. For a second, Shane wondered if she'd heard them.

"Did you see where Lori went?" she asked in exasperation.

Shane frowned. "She ain't inside?" He'd thought that she was upstairs with Maggie, who hadn't left Beth's side once since Rick had taken Jenna and Glenn into town to retrieve her father.

"No, she asked me to look in on Carl, and I haven't seen her since," she said somewhat irritably, looking around the property. "I don't know how long she expects me to watch her kid, but I'm not a damn baby-sitter."

Shane resisted the urge to throttle the woman. She'd already almost killed Jenna, and now this was just the tip of the iceberg. How goddamn blind could someone with sight be? And Lori, sneaking off like a fucking teenager. Why the hell couldn't people just use their damn brains every once in a while?

"She went after Rick," he said, picking up his Mossberg and rushing down the porch.

"Ay, you want me to go with ya?" Daryl asked.

"Naw, I got it," Shane assured him. "We need ya here—we can't have this place even more unprotected than it already is. Half our manpower's out lookin for Hershel."

Daryl nodded, and Shane sped over to the Hyundai. He slipped into the driver's seat and dirt and gravel flew behind him as he sped down the road.

If anything happened to Lori, Rick would never forgive him, and he would never be able to look Carl in the eye again. What in the _hell_ was that woman thinking, taking off alone without telling anyone? He wondered if it was the pregnancy hormones influencing her to act rashly. But, then again, Lori had always been really good at panicking. Rick's wife was many things—a dutiful wife, a devoted mother, a natural homemaker—but she did not handle high-stress situations well, and she tended to let her emotions be the deciding factor in most of her choices.

Well, as long as he was out on the road, he figured he could head into town after he found Lori, and check on things with the others.

He did not want to admit that he was really just checking up on Jenna.

_Too young, _he reminded himself firmly. Too young for him, and it wasn't like she was too fond of him anymore anyway. She'd sooner punch him in the throat.

The mental image made him smirk a bit.

It was beyond frustrating, really—the one person who really understood him, who knew all the worst things about him and still saw a redeemable man, had all but cast him aside. Jenna knew him. She knew him better even than Rick did now. They had no history, but she understood who he was, at the core. She knew the worst things about him, and he knew the darkest things about her. They were both haunted, and for a while, they'd been able to draw comfort from each other, that mutual pain pulling them closer together. But now, he feared he may have just ripped them apart from each other again.

How could she forgive him for killing Russell and leaving Otis to die, but not for clearing out a barn full of walkers—things that were already dead, no matter who they were?

_"Don't worry about me and my kid." _The words stung just remembering them. The angry tone of her voice may as well have been the lashing of a whip on his bare flesh. What he didn't understand was why it had bothered him so much to hear those words from her. Why it bothered him so much that she apparently didn't want him to be connected to her and her kid.

God, what was this tiny, frustrating woman doing to him?

The sound gunfire caught his attention and he snapped his gaze straight ahead, trying to peer through the darkness of the road. It had only been one shot. If it was Lori, she must've been in some kind of trouble, and Shane feared it was the worst kind. But why would she be out here on the road in the first place? Why had she gotten out of the car to kill a walker?

When he drove ahead, he realized why immediately; Maggie's Mercury Sable was overturned on the shoulder of the road.

_How in the fuck…? _

He slammed the breaks of the Hyundai and jumped out of the car when he took in the full scene before him.

Not only was the car overturned, but the windshield had a walker sticking its head and shoulders through a hole in the glass. And there was another lying on its back on the asphalt. He sped forward, Mossberg raised, and kicked both of them; they were dead. But where the hell was Lori? She had to have been the one to shoot the one on the road and drive the screwdriver into the other's eye socket.

He moved to look around the other side of the car—and breathed a sigh of relief to see her sitting on the grass, a small Colt revolver held firmly in both hands, eyes wide.

"Damn it, Lori," he muttered, dropping down and lifting her up by her shoulders. "C'mere," he said, pulling her over toward his car.

He grabbed a flashlight and checked her eyes. She was in bad shape, but at least she didn't seem to have a concussion. There was a gash across her forehead at the hairline, blood sticking her hair to her left temple, her lip was busted, and she had one hell of a bruise staining her right arm and shoulder.

So much for going to check on Jenna and the others; he needed to get Lori back to the house.

"C'mon, Lor," he said, working to keep his voice soft as he led her over to the passenger seat of the Hyundai.

He closed the door after her and slipped into the driver's seat again, spinning the car around to head back in the direction he'd come.

"No!" she yelled suddenly. "What the hell are you doin—take me to town!"

"Lori, I'm not bringin ya out there—"

"I'm not goin back without Rick!"

"Lori," he said intently, pinning her with a stern glare. "I am not bringin ya out there, not like this. You're bleedin from your head, you're barely steady on your feet. It won't do any good to bring ya out there."

"_I have to go get my husband,_" she practically growled at him.

Pregnancy hormones.

"He'll be back," he assured her firmly. "He'll be back, Lori, an' he would not want you goin out there like this. I'm bringin you back to the house to have someone stitch up your head."

"I'm fine—"

"No, you're not," he shot back, growing frustrated. "You're not fine, Lori, not even close. You're in no condition to go off wonderin around, lookin for Rick." And then, seeing that she wasn't swayed, he used her own favorite phrase against her. "Your place is with your son, not out here. Ya got your little boy to worry 'bout, ya got your baby to worry 'bout, an' if Rick knew ya were out here like this, he'd lose his—"

"_What?_" she snapped fiercely.

Well, _shit_. He didn't realize that she hadn't been aware that he knew about her pregnancy. Perhaps they were keeping it a secret from the others—Carl, more specifically.

"You know?" she demanded sharply. "How d'you know?"

"How d'you think I know?" he snapped back, already frustrated with her and too impatient to be arguing over this. "Rick told me."

She huffed out an infuriated breath and leaned back into her seat, glowering straight ahead, her lips pressed into a thin line. When Rick got back—and he would get back—she was going to tear him a new one. Shane really didn't envy Rick for once; a panicky, hormonal woman was not something he would have wanted to have to deal with these days. No wonder Rick was wound so tight lately.

Lori sat still and quiet in the passenger's seat for the rest of the ride, radiating ferocity. He was going to have to keep an eye on her and make sure she didn't try and sneak off again—perhaps to just rip her husband's tongue out now—and that put him in an equally poor mood. If he wasn't forced to babysit Lori, he would've been able check on the others in town.

_They'll be back_, he assured himself. They _had_ to come back.

* * *

_JPOV_

Rick holstered his revolver as Hershel and Glenn stepped toward him, looking down at Tony's dead body on the floor. He turned his eyes to Jenna again while she stowed her Beretta back into her belt—it was red-hot and lead-heavy for the second time that day.

"You alright?" he asked her intently, and she nodded, unable to speak just yet. He nodded too, accepting that, and turned his gaze to Glenn at his left. "Glenn?"

"I'm good," said Glenn, sounding anything but.

"Hershel, you?" asked Rick, turning to the old man, who was still staring down at Tony's lifeless body.

Hershel just gave a slight nod.

"Holy shit…" breathed Glenn, staring down at Tony with wide eyes.

"Yeah, no kidding," muttered Jenna to herself, having found her voice, and looking around at the dusty old tavern, taking note of how dark it was for the first time since Dave and Tony had entered the bar. It was nightfall now, she realized.

"Let's head back," suggested Hershel in a subdued tone.

Rick nodded, and then knelt down, taking the sawn-off shotgun that Tony's hands still gripped, along with a few shells from his pockets. Glenn moved a little shakily behind the bar again, stepping over to where Dave had fallen to retrieve his SIG-Sauer. He hopped over the bar, landing next to Jenna, and they began to make their way toward the doors, all of them just wanting to get the hell out of that tavern.

Light swept across the windows in a familiar fashion that Jenna hadn't witnessed for quite some time, telling them one thing; they were no longer alone.

"Car!" hissed Rick, putting his arm out to halt them as he lowered to a crouch, ducking below the windows. "Car—get down."

They all lowered to a crouch immediately and moved over to the front of the bar beneath the windows, raising their guns, pressing their backs to the wall and listening intently. With the way things seemed to be going today, Jenna doubted whether the car belonged to one of their own.

And then—she listened more intently—there was the sound of another engine and another set of tires; it seemed that Dave and Tony's group had come to investigate, and when they found their boys dead on the floor of the tavern, they were going to be looking for revenge. If they were close enough to arrive at this moment, then they would have been close enough to hear the gunfire, giving them a pretty good idea of where to search.

The sound of tires skidding to a halt just outside on the road told Jenna that they had pinpointed the location of the gunfire with remarkable accuracy. _Things can always, _always_ get worse,_ she reminded herself bitterly.

Car doors opened and closed, and feet stepped down onto the pavement. Jenna, Rick, Glenn, and Hershel remained silent, all of them seeming to be waiting to exhale…

"Dave?" a man's voice called out, puzzled. "Tony?"

Glenn sighed a little shakily, closing his eyes tightly while he gripped his shotgun.

"There's no one here," said another man's voice.

"I'm tellin you, man, I heard shots," the first insisted.

"I saw roamers just around the corner here—we need to get outta here—"

"Dave?"

"Shut up," a third voice warned, all of them nearing the entrance of the bar. "You wanna attract 'em? Just stay close—we're gonna find 'em."

The sound of combined footsteps paced around the front of the tavern, before moving around to the sides. It was impossible for Jenna to determine exactly how many sets of footsteps had moved in that direction, however…had someone stayed behind, or had they all walked off? If only Daryl had gone with Rick and Glenn instead of her. He would've been much more useful to them than she was at the moment, in any case.

When it had been silent for a long, tense minute, Rick moved the curtain of the window a fraction, trying to get a glimpse through it in the darkness. Whether he saw something or not, Jenna didn't know, but he rose to stand, his back still against the wall, revolver held out and at the ready. All four of them were on edge, their nerves strung tighter than the wires of the dusty old piano standing just a few yards away.

He peered through the window again from the higher vantage point, and then lowered back down to a crouch before creeping by the doors to join Jenna and the others, who were on the other side.

"Why won't they leave?" Glenn hissed tensely.

"Would you?" Hershel challenged in a whisper. The situation seemed to have sobered him up quite thoroughly.

"We can't sit here any longer," Rick told them intently.

"The backroom," Jenna whispered, nodding in its direction, "there's probably a back door."

Rick nodded in a manner that suggested he'd already been thinking along those same lines. "Let's head out the back, make a run for the car," he decided.

They all nodded, agreeing readily and willingly, the desire to get the hell out of there stronger than ever. As soon as they started to rise to stand, however, noise from outside made them sink down low again immediately; gunfire.

"What happened?" a male voice asked from outside.

"Roamers," replied another. "Just a few of 'em—I nailed 'em from the car."

"Alright—we cleared those buildings, did you guys clear this one?"

"No—didn't you?"

"We're lookin for Dave and Tony, and no one checks the damn _bar_?"

Jenna closed her eyes, a familiar sense of dread creeping up on her. Those voices were close—just outside, on the road in front of the tavern, probably. It would take a miracle for them to make it to the back room undetected now. And she wasn't one to put much faith in _miracles_.

Rick pulled the hammer back on the revolver as the men approached the door of the tavern, preparing to fire. Jenna moved her finger over the trigger of her own gun, marking the time by each thudding heartbeat, waiting.

The door began to open, and Glenn moved quickly—acting on instinct and fear—shoving the door closed again with his back. He closed his eyes in the next moment, knowing he'd screwed up and knowing there was no way to undo what he'd just done.

"Someone pushed the door closed, someone's in there," said one of the men.

"Tony? Dave?" another called.

"Yo, is someone in there?" a third called, more loudly. "Yo, if someone's there, we don't want no trouble—we're just lookin for our friends."

Jenna's eyes shifted over to Tony's fat body, utterly lifeless. They were trapped, with the blood of these men's friends on their hands. There was no way everyone was getting out of this unharmed, and all Jenna could hope for was that the bloodshed stayed confined to the opposing side—as cruel and callous as that was.

"We don't want any trouble," the man repeated, speaking more firmly. "We're just lookin for our friends—if somethin happened, then tell us."

None of them said a word.

The pounding of her heart was louder than ever.

"This place is crawling with corpses," he said after a moment. "If you could help us not get killed I'd appreciate it."

Jenna wondered how accurate that statement was. How many walkers were out there, exactly? Perhaps that could be beneficial to them while they were inside the tavern. Maybe they would just have to hold the men off, keep them from getting in, long enough for them to abandon their investigation in exchange for escaping with their lives…

But then that would probably just leave them with the dilemma of being surrounded by a horde of walkers, with no escape in sight. In all honesty though, she would rather be stuck in the tavern with a thick wall of groaning corpses barricading them in than risking a shootout with a group of an unknown amount of men. At least the walker situation would give them a bit more time to come up with a plan.

Rick ran his hand through his hair, working to contain himself, it seemed, and struggling to come up with a solution that would get them out alive. Jenna hoped he had something, because her feeble idea was far from ideal.

"Dude, you're buggin—I'm tellin you, no one's in there," said one of the men outside.

"Someone pushed the door shut," the man that had been talking to them insisted. "They're in there—they might know where Dave and Tony are."

They weren't going to give up, that much was clear—and really, Jenna couldn't blame them for that. And how many of them were there, anyway? She'd heard three different voices, but from the sound of things, there could have been more. Things were very, very rapidly spiraling downhill. If there were walkers out there, they didn't seem to be doing much good. They weren't chasing the men away, or even distracting them. Perhaps they just had to be a little more patient…maybe they would gather, attracted to the noise the men were making outside—

"They drew on us!" Rick called out to them.

Jenna closed her eyes once more, the dread sinking its claws into her now. Why? _Why_ did he have to speak? Beside her, Hershel seemed to be thinking concurrent thoughts, for the old man's eyes were closed as well as he let out a slow, shaky sigh.

The men didn't say anything for a moment, and then one of them stepped closer to the tavern's entrance.

"Dave and Tony in there?" he demanded. "They alive?"

Rick clenched his jaw, knowing there was no way out of this. "No," he said eventually, loudly enough for them to hear.

"Killed Dave and Tony," the man muttered, and Jenna was sure all of them could hear the anger in his voice.

"Shit!" hissed another voice—a younger voice—and Jenna couldn't tell whether it was in anger, or fear. She hoped for the latter; that could've meant the walkers were drawing too close for comfort for them.

"C'mon, man, let's just go," urged another, backing her theory.

"No," said the first adamantly, "I'm not leaving. I'm not telling Jane—I'm not gonna go back and tell everybody that some assholes shot Dave and Tony in a bar!"

"Your friends drew on _us_!" Rick yelled angrily. "They gave us no choice! I'm sure we've all lost enough people—done things we wish we didn't have to, but it's like that now—you know that! So let's jus' chalk this up to what is was; wrong place, wrong—"

A blast of gunfire and the sound of shattering glass cut off Rick's words; one of them had shot at the door, just above where Glenn was crouching.

All four of them ducked, covering their heads instinctively, and Rick rolled to his feet, aiming his revolver at the hole in the glass of the door. He fired one shot and turned to them, gun still raised on the enemy.

"Get outta here!" he commanded them.

The three of them moved at once, going in different directions. Glenn dove forward and slid against the wall, his back leaning against the old piano on the side of the room. Hershel sped by him, being sure to keep low, and wove around to place himself behind the bar. Jenna dove across the doorway and rolled along the floor before slipping behind the other bar, her back pressed up against it, gun held out in front of her. Rick had lowered back to his original position, back against the wall, revolver raised and ready. And all the while, a barrage of bullets blasted through the bar, shattering more glass and blowing holes through wood.

Did she say that she didn't have much faith in miracles? Now she was eating her words, because it was a damn miracle none of them were hit by a bullet just then.

Rick grabbed the shotgun Glenn had dropped and sent it sliding across the hardwood floor toward him, and he grabbed it readily and held onto it like a lifeline. The gunfire ceased for a few moments, and Rick emptied the shells from the cylinder, grabbing them and stuffing them back into his shirt pocket.

"Hey!" he yelled out to the men. "We all know this is not gonna end well," he told them while he shoved more rounds into his revolver. "There's nothin in it for any of us! You guys jus'—jus' back off, no one else gets hurt!"

While Jenna wasn't sure that threatening a group of armed, angry men was the way to go, she didn't exactly have any ideas of her own to offer up. Scanning around the bar for some sort of inspiration, she caught sight of the door leading to the backroom.

Right. That was their intention in the first place, wasn't it?

She tapped the floor to get Rick's attention, and when his eyes met hers, she pointed her thumb to herself and then over her shoulder toward the backroom, hoping he' catch her meaning. Seeming to understand, he nodded, and she sped along the back of the bar, staying low, stepping over Dave's body along the way. When she'd gotten to the door she pressed her back into the wall beside it and she reached up and turned the knob, pushing it open as quietly as she could manage—she had no idea what was back there.

Peering into the dark room first, she slipped inside after not seeing any immediate threat, and rose to stand up straight once she was through, gun raised.

She stepped cautiously down the flight of wooden steps—which creaked with every damn shift of her feet—and scanned the area continuously once she reached the concrete floor. It looked like it was the storage room, and there were far too many little places to hide for her liking. The windows at the left provided a bit of light, but they also gave someone on the outside something to shoot through with ease.

A soft noise at her right had her spinning around in an instant, gun aimed, finger over the trigger, and staring intently into the shadowed room, looking for the source. It sounded like scratching—nails on concrete—and she wondered if there was a walker hidden somewhere amongst the boxes and shelves of alcohol.

She stepped toward the direction she'd heard the sound slowly, approaching a shelf lined with bottles of tequila. There was a large gap of space between the shelf and the wall that she couldn't see around from the angle she was at.

_Fuck, _she cursed internally. This was exactly what they didn't need at the moment.

Carefully, she sidestepped, never taking her eyes from the shelf, never lowering her gun. She moved as far as she could go before the wall blocked her from going any further, and still, she couldn't see the gap.

Looking around, she spotted a crate of empty bottles at her feet. Grabbing one of them, she crouched low and rolled it across the floor, sending it rolling beneath the legs of the shelf. If there was a walker back there, it would notice, and it would make more noise, and she'd be able to kill it quietly with her machete before moving for the back door to check their exit.

When the bottle disappeared beneath the shelf, however, there were startled squeaks rather than snarling, and a few rats scurried out from their hiding place.

Just as she was ready to feel some slight relief, one of the rats squeezed between two boxes, nudging one of them just enough for the wooden crate that was balanced precariously on top of it to tip over, spilling glass bottles onto the concrete floor. The shattering of glass seemed impossibly loud, as though it had been amplified by loudspeakers.

"Jenna!" Rick's voice called out to her, startled by the noise, she gathered.

"I'm okay!" she called back. "I'm okay, it's alright!" _Except now they know we're heading out the back,_ she chastised herself. Fuck. She may have just gotten all four of them killed by her own stupidity.

She approached the backdoor cautiously, ready to shoot the moment the need presented itself, and just as she was about to take a look outside, the door to the bar opened, and Glenn and Hershel sped down the stairs to join her.

"Rick wants us to cover Glenn while he tries for the car," Hershel told her in a low voice.

"Where's Rick?" she asked.

"He's holding them off," Hershel told her, nodding back toward the bar.

"Alright," she agreed, and then looked over at Glenn, who looked a bit pale. The last time she'd seen him this scared, he was being dragged into the back of a Ford Galaxy by Guillermo's men. "Or, I could try for the car, and you could cover me," she suggested. It was the least she could do, after she'd just botched their escape plan.

"No—no way," said Glenn intently. "I'm not letting you go out there like that."

"Fine," she hissed back—this was no time to be arguing. "Let's just go so we can get the fuck outta here."

They moved toward the door then, and Jenna pushed it open slowly when she couldn't see through the frosted glass. Glenn stepped out first, shotgun ready, and Hershel put a hand out toward Jenna when she moved to follow after him, going ahead of her instead. Jenna wanted to roll her eyes—now was no time for chivalry. Or maybe, he just didn't want her screwing things up any further. On high-alert, she stepped through the doorway and out into the alley after the two of them.

Glenn stepped away from the door, looking around anxiously, and Jenna moved a few paces behind him, on her guard.

Just as she was turning her head to look behind her, a black man stepped into view at the end of the alley, and raised his gun on her and Glenn in an instant, firing at them.

She and Glenn dropped to the ground immediately, darting behind a dumpster for cover. Another shot rang out—from the backdoor, telling her that it was Hershel that time—and the man in the distance began groaning in pain.

"What happened?" came Rick's voice as he sped up to Hershel's side, speaking in a quick hiss.

"He fired," Hershel told him, sounding shaken. Meanwhile, the man continued to groan in the distance. "He might've hit Jenna or Glenn—they're behind the dumpster," he said then.

Jenna, who had been trying to catch her breath and reclaim control of her thundering heart, cut her eyes over to Glenn crouching down beside her, seeing that his eyes were open and alert, and he was still breathing.

"We're okay," she hissed out. "He didn't hit us."

Rick made his way around the dumpster, crouching down with them and looking them over. She turned her gaze to Glenn again, finally taking note of how white his face was. He was thoroughly rattled. She could only imagine that she looked very similar.

"It's okay," Rick told him intently. "The car's right there, you're almost home."

"Okay," Glenn breathed.

"You good?" he asked, looking each of them in the eye. They both nodded. "Okay, let's go."

They rose to their feet and wove around the dumpster, and were almost hit by two rounds from somewhere above at a distance ahead of them. They were crouched down behind the dumpster again in the next moment. Jenna, who was pressed between the metal surface and Rick's side, shifted her arms free so that she could hold her gun out properly. Carefully, she moved her head to the side around the metal surface of the dumpster, her eyes searching.

She spotted him; a young man standing on the roof of the pharmacy, rifle in his hand. As soon as he noticed her head poking out from around the dumpster, he opened fire again. Jenna yanked herself back around the protective metal body just in time to hear the bullet make contact. The man's aim wasn't the greatest, but it wouldn't take much luck for him to hit one of them if they tried to make a run for it now. Would they be able to hit him with a bullet from their vulnerable position before he did the same to them?

The sound of tires skidding to a halt could be heard over by the pharmacy, and Jenna wondered if they'd decided to make an escape attempt without killing them after all.

"Let's get outta here!" the man, maybe the driver, yelled. "There's roamers all over the place—hurry up, we gotta get outta here!"

"What about Sean?" the man on the roof asked.

"They shot him! Let's go—roamers are everywhere!" the man in the car urged.

"We're _leavin_?"

"_Jump!_"

Jenna moved her head out cautiously and watched as the young man moved over to the other side of the roof, pausing as he looked down. As insane as it was, Jenna found some forgotten part of herself hoping that he didn't jump—from that height it was foolhardy, and he was sure to break at least one bone in that landing.

"Hurry up—jump already!" urged the man from the car.

And the young man leapt from the rooftop, landing on what Jenna could only guess must've been another dumpster, falling out of her vantage point. The shrieks of pain that ensued after that told her she'd been correct—he was badly injured.

"Dude didn't make it," muttered Glenn under his breath.

"_Help me!_" the man shrieked desperately. "_Help!_"

"I gotta go!" said the man in the car. "I gotta go—I'm sorry!"

The car sped away, the tires screeching along the asphalt, and the young man hollered after him frantically. Jenna watched the car until it sped out of sight, barely catching a glimpse of a balding man with scraggly dark hair behind the wheel.

"We gotta go," said Rick in a low voice. "Get Hershel."

With that, he sped off out of the alley, and Jenna leapt up to run after him, leaving Glenn to get Hershel. There was no way in hell she was letting Rick out there in the open without some sort of back up. Walkers littered the street, and Rick shot at them as he sped by, taking out a few. Jenna, seeing that there were a bit too many to handle with a machete, opened fire as well, helping him clear the road.

"Rick!" she yelled after him when she realized that he wasn't heading for the car, but for the moaning young man in the other alley.

Now was no time to be a hero, particularly not to someone who was an enemy.

She shot down the last walker in the street and sprinted after him, coming to a halt at his side. The young man was sitting propped up by his hands on the dumpster, his left calve having been impaled by the pointed bars of the gate that closed off the alley.

"Rick," Hershel called as he and Glenn sped toward them. "We have to go."

The man yelped as though he'd been jabbed with a hot poker and fell back onto the dumpster with a loud thud.

"_Shhh!_" Jenna hissed at him as she changed the magazine in her Beretta.

"I'm sorry, son, we have to go," said Hershel to the young man.

He sat back up again. "Don't leave me, please," he begged pitifully. "Don't, don't leave me, please, please—"

"_Shut up!_" Jenna hissed at him again.

"We have to go," Hershel urged Rick. "Leave 'im!"

"We _can't_!" Rick declared, waving his hand at the young man.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Jenna demanded in an angry whisper. "_He was just shooting at us!_"

"He's a _kid_!" Rick shot back.

"Bullshit—and he just tried to kill us!" Jenna snapped.

"_This place is crawling with walkers!_" Glenn yelled angrily at Rick.

"We can't leave him!" Rick insisted.

"The fence went clean through—there's no way we can get the leg off in one piece," Hershel said, giving the man's leg a quick examination while he continued to wail.

Rick grabbed the fence and gave it a hard rattle, making him shriek even more. "Shut up!" he commanded. "Shut up, or I will shoot you!"

"That may be the answer," said Hershel grimly. "We're not gonna get that leg off without tearin the muscle to shreds—he certainly can't run, he may bleed out."

Glenn grabbed the man's leg roughly. "Shut up!" he urged him.

"Maybe we should put him down," said Hershel to Rick in a low voice. Rick looked back at him in disbelief. "I don't wanna see anymore killin," he defended, "but this is _cruel_!"

Ugh, this was taking too damn long! "Can't we just take the leg off?" Jenna suggested in exasperation.

Rick looked back at her for a moment. "That hatchet still in the car?" he asked then, coming to a decision.

"No, no, _no_!" the young man wailed. "Don't, don't—don't cut my leg off, please! Please, not my leg!"

"_Shut up!_" Jenna spat at him in a fierce hiss, shaking the gate again and making him cry out in pain. "You're lucky we're even bothering to save your punk ass! Shut _up_!"

Just as she was about to offer up her machete, she happened to glance upward, down the alley, to see that they wouldn't have enough time to hack off the man's leg. A mass of walkers had just shuffled around the corner, attracted by all the noise.

"Rick—we have to go!" she yelled, and shot down the walkers at the head of the group. She only had twelve rounds left, and there were at _least_ that many ahead of her. "We have to go _now_!"

Gunfire from behind her told her that the walkers weren't just coming up the alley. They were getting surrounded.

"_Come on—we gotta go!_" Glenn hollered.

"Hershel, do it now!" Rick yelled, opening fire at Jenna's side. "Come on, Hershel!"

"We can't hold them off, Rick!" Jenna yelled, shooting down three more.

"Please, please, don't leave me!" the man wailed.

Rick didn't want to kill the young man, and neither did Hershel or Glenn. Jenna didn't want to kill him either—she'd already had to murder one man that day, and she didn't want to have to do it again. She didn't want to add to the blood that already stained her hands. But if it meant getting them out of there alive—if it meant living to see Thao, who was waiting for her to return—then she would just have to live with the added blood. Maybe Rick couldn't live with that, but she'd been living with that for months. She'd already come to terms with the ravaging of her soul long, long ago. If he couldn't do it, then she would.

She turned and aimed her Beretta at the back of the young man's head. He wouldn't see it coming—it would all just suddenly be over for him. That was the most mercy she could grant him at this point.

"Jenna, no!" yelled Rick, grabbing her forearm and forcing it downward.

She spun her head around to pin him with an angry glare. "Then _you_ get us out of here," she demanded.

Glaring back at her for a moment, he ran a hand through his hair.

"_Come on!_" roared Glenn from the street. "We gotta go—come on!"

Rick ran back toward the gate then, and grabbed the young man's leg by the ankle while he continued to scream and wail. He yanked his leg upward, hard and fast, ripping it free from the pointed top of the bar.

The man shrieked more loudly than ever before, and Rick dragged him off the dumpster.

"Hershel!" he yelled. "Help me get him to the truck!"

Jenna spun around and shot down four more walkers that had gotten too close for them to make an escape carrying the screaming young man. She glanced over her shoulder to see Glenn clearing the street for them, and turned her attention back to the alley, where more walkers continued to spill in from the other end.

She moved backward after Rick and Hershel, who were dragging the shrieking man between them, and shot down any walker that got a little too close, covering the back while Glenn cleared the front.

She only had three rounds left, and there were over a dozen walkers trudging toward them.

"Fuck!" she spat when she spotted even more at their flanks, coming from both sides, and shot down the three that were the closest.

Stuffing her empty Beretta back into her belt, she freed her machete and looked on both sides, determining which of the walkers was more of a threat. Choosing one on the left, she sped over and cracked the blade of her machete into its skull, before yanking it out and taking down another just a few paces away while Glenn shot them down with Tony's sawn-off.

She looked back to see that Rick and Hershel were stuffing the man into the back of the Cherokee—and that a walker was advancing on them from behind, dangerously close.

"Look out!" she yelled, sprinting forward.

Swinging the machete, she brought the blade careening down into the back of its head, at the base of the skull, and kicked it backward so that it wouldn't fall onto Rick or Hershel. She looked back over her shoulder seeing that they were both unharmed, thankfully.

"Come on, let's go!" urged Rick in the next moment, dragging Jenna over to the passenger's seat of the Cherokee while Hershel and Glenn jumped into the Chevy.

They peeled out, clipping a walker and sending it falling backward onto the asphalt in the process, and sped out of the town, the Chevy following closely behind. As soon as they were on the main road again, Jenna sighed and sank back into her seat, closing her eyes.

"Thank you," said Rick eventually. She opened her eyes and looked over at him. "You saved my life in that bar. Thank you."

She just leaned back into her seat again. "It's what we do," she said a little breathlessly. _We kill to survive—it's what we do, _she added bitterly to herself.

She glanced up at the rearview mirror to see the young man hunched over in the backseat, moaning pitifully. She shook her head and ran a hand through her hair. How much trouble had they just caused for themselves by bringing him back with them?

* * *

**Note:**

In response to a guest reviewer; While your suggestion is certainly amusing, I regret to inform you that won't be happening in this story. I admire your creativity, though.

Sorry if I'm being a little too mean to Andrea for you, but I did warn you back in the first chapter that I wasn't going to be particularly kind to her. Hate me if you want, but it is what it is.

On another note, thank you for reading and reviewing! Please tell me how I'm doing, and if there's anything I can improve on!


	49. Plain & Simple

**Disclaimer: Truly and honestly, I don't own The Walking Dead, but I think that's obvious to everyone. No copyright intended.**

**Warning: **Rated M for language, violence, gore, and eventual smut.

* * *

_"We all do things we desperately wish we could undo. Those regrets just become part of who we are, along with everything else. To spend time trying to change that, well, it's like chasing clouds."_

_—Libba Bray_

* * *

Plain & Simple

_JPOV_

Jenna leaned against the Chevy next to Glenn, watching as Hershel finished up treating the man's leg in the Cherokee where they'd stopped on the road. His name was Randall. Based on his accent, Jenna deduced that he was from the area—or the South, at least. He'd told them he was twenty years old—not a fucking kid. Vaguely, she wondered how he'd come to travel with his friends from the city, but she really didn't put much thought into it. She didn't want to understand him or get to know him—it was easier to hate him that way.

She really didn't see why Rick was so intent on saving the little bastard's ass like this, when he'd shot at them just an hour before—shot to kill. Just because he'd been blubbering and wailing like a stuck pig when he'd been caught in a deadly situation didn't make him any less of an enemy than he'd been up on that rooftop, shooting down at them.

_"Don't leave me, please,"_ he'd begged, over and over again, while they'd argued and bartered over his life.

She could remember another voice, imploring just the same. _"Help me! Don't leave me!"_ Martin Connors had begged, just a minute or two before he'd put a gun to her head.

She'd fallen for that one before, and nearly gotten herself killed because of it.

Hershel tied off the bloody calve, finishing the job for the time being, and Rick pulled a strip of cloth from Randall's shirt before tying it around his head in a blindfold. Well, at least there was that, Jenna supposed. He looked close to passing out anyway.

"I should be able to repair it once I get 'im to the house," said Hershel to Rick, wiping his hands. "He'll have a little trouble walkin, but it's the best I can do."

"Don't feel bad—it's more than he deserves," said Jenna flatly.

"He's a kid," said Rick sharply—for possibly the hundredth time since they'd left town.

Jenna met his glare with one of her own unabashedly, not backing down. "He's a _'kid'_ who tried to kill us, just like the rest of his friends."

"Look, he's not stayin with us long," Rick assured her. "Jus' until we can fix up his leg an' drop him off somewhere. Then he won't be our problem anymore."

Jenna just raised her brows fleetingly, not very impressed, and propped her right foot up on the tire of the Chevy, shifting her weight. She was exhausted, and this ridiculous situation really wasn't doing anything to help that.

Rick turned to Hershel then. "Listen, while we're here, I think we should discuss things—before we get back."

Hershel looked back at him, stony-faced. "_Things_," he said. "You mean Shane?"

Jenna's gut wrenched a bit at that. With all the mayhem in town, she'd all but forgotten about the event that had brought them out there in the first place. And now that Shane's fate was hanging in the balance, to be discussed right at that moment, Jenna was finally able to figure out what had her so pissed off at Shane in the first place.

It wasn't so much that he'd busted open the doors of the barn, or that he'd done exactly what she'd asked him not to do. It was that in doing so, he may've gotten himself thrown off the Greenes' farm—and that was the last thing she wanted.

Rick put his hands up, reasoning. "I know what he did was rash, but—"

"He terrorized my girls," said Hershel angrily. "Made 'em watch while he an' the others gunned down their mother an' their brother. I want 'im off my land."

"That wasn't his intention."

Both Rick and Hershel turned around to gaze at Jenna, mild surprise in their expressions. She hadn't meant to blurt out that way, but the words had just come forth of their own accord. Out before she could even think of holding them back.

"It wasn't," she said then, as long as she had Hershel's attention. "It was wrong, and in a way he knows that, but he honestly believes that he did the right thing. He's a hothead and he could've handled the situation better, but he was trying to keep the rest of us safe, in the only way he knew how. It wasn't meant to be malicious."

Hershel kept his gaze leveled at her for a long moment, seeming to be battling within himself. All Jenna could do was hope that he gave Shane the benefit of the doubt.

Ever the negotiator, Rick stepped in. "Look, we can keep him in line from now on," he assured Hershel calmly. "He's not a bad guy, he's jus' a hothead, like Jenna said. I'll talk to him, tell him how things have to be if he's gonna stay."

Hershel was silent long enough to make Jenna believe he wasn't swayed. "Fine," he said eventually, and Jenna's entire frame relaxed—she hadn't even realized she'd been so tense. "But this is his last warning."

Rick nodded, accepting that. He met Jenna's eyes for a moment, giving her a look that she didn't understand but was too drained to bother to decipher. With everything settled, they got back into the cars, Jenna riding shotgun in the Chevy that time, not wanting to sit in the back of the Cherokee with Randall.

She didn't trust herself not to slam her fist down on his leg, and she was sure that Rick would not appreciate that very much.

* * *

_SPOV_

Shane and Daryl stood behind the Hyundai, loading gear into the back in quick, determined motions, neither of them speaking. It was barely breaking daylight, but Jenna and the others had yet to return. If there wasn't a reason for worry before, there sure as hell was now.

He looked back at the house, seeing Thao sitting in Dusty's lap, her arms around the boy while she sat in the rocking chair by the door. The poor kid barely slept at all last night, and had woken up with wide, saddened eyes when he realized his mama still hadn't come home. Shane had never seen Thao so upset by anything, and he assumed this was the longest he'd gone without Jenna since she'd found him in Colorado—including the night camp was attacked.

Seeing the heartbroken expression on the little boy's face was what spurred Shane into action. They'd been gone too long—he couldn't sit around and wait for them to return anymore. People here needed them.

Why? _Why_ did she have to take off? Why couldn't she just let Rick handle things? Why did she have to go and make sure Maggie didn't have a coronary while Glenn was gone? Why the fuck hadn't Shane gone instead?

The sound of tires rolling over dirt and gravel in the distance made him snap his head up at the road—and he sighed heavily with an overwhelming wave of relief when he saw the red Chevrolet leading the Cherokee down toward the house. All the tension and anxiety that had been building up since yesterday evening was finally purged out of his body at the sight of those two cars.

He and Daryl straightened up, watching as the cars came to a stop a short distance away at the end of the driveway, and the others gathered around the front of the house, staring at the vehicles in elation and disbelief combined.

Hershel and Jenna exited the Chevy, and Shane immediately took note of the bit of blood on the old man's shirt and the dirt and grime that stained Jenna's clothes. The machete tied to her belt was stained with partially-dried blood, and he guessed that she'd taken down a walker—or a few walkers, judging by how disheveled and exhausted she looked.

"Mama!"

Thao came sprinting down the driveway in the next moment as the others began to move forward, and Shane watched as Jenna caught the boy readily, picking him up and holding him tightly, immense relief evident in her expression.

"Oh, baby boy," she breathed as she held him, falling to her knees and clasping her arms around him securely as he buried his face into her neck. "I missed you, sweetheart. So, so much."

"Dad!" Carl yelled happily as he ran to greet his father in a similar fashion, and both he and Lori wrapped themselves around Rick as soon as they reached him.

Maggie ran down the steps of the porch, speeding right by her father, and threw herself at Glenn, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly. The kid looked too stunned to return the embrace, but the two shotguns he carried would have made that difficult to do anyway. Where did they pick up the sawn-off?

"Jesus, Minnie, ya look like hell," said Daryl as he stepped over to them with the rest of the group, crossbow still slung over his shoulder.

"I feel like hell," said Jenna dully—even her voice sounded tired—as she glanced over at him, rising to her feet with her boy still in her arms.

No sooner had she risen to stand than she was bombarded by Dusty, who threw herself at the other woman in a tight embrace big enough to encircle both Jenna and Thao. The sound of a muffled groan from Jenna made Shane want to tell Dusty to take it easy, but he kept his mouth shut and remained where he stood, several yards away, rooted in place. She was alright. She was really alright. He could breathe again.

"Dusty—" Jenna began, but that was all she got out.

"Good Lord, I thought y'all were gonners," Dusty admitted in a strong, agitated sigh of relief. "I was goin half outta my mind. Don't _ever_ do that to me again—"

"Dusty, I'm fine," Jenna assured her, still looking a bit stunned. "I can handle myself out there, I swear."

Dusty laughed, a little shakily. "I know, but…but you're jus' so damn little, ya know?" she explained, and Jenna couldn't help but to laugh a bit herself then. Dusty released her and held her out at arm's length to take her in fully. "You really alright?" she demanded.

Of course, Jenna nodded, never one to show weakness. "I'm fine," she repeated. "Just tired as hell."

"I bet you are," said Dusty in a mutter. "Y'all look like ya been through the wringer. What happened out there?"

Jenna just shook her head, not a trace of humor to be found on her face that time, and something about the set of her jade eyes told Shane that more had happened out there than fighting through a swarm of walkers.

"Patricia," said Hershel as he walked up toward the porch, "prepare the shed for surgery."

The woman nodded and headed into the house to gather the necessary supplies. Shane looked around at the returning members once more, trying to spot the injury that he'd missed, and not seeing it. They all looked beat, but unharmed for the most part. So who needed surgery? Or was Hershel referring to Beth? But that couldn't have been it—why the hell would he put Beth in the shed for surgery?

Either way, just thinking about the traumatized young girl upstairs in the house sent another stab of guilt assaulting Shane's mind, and he sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, looking down at the ground.

"We're so glad you're all back," said Carol, a little tearfully, as she approached Jenna and wrapped her in an embrace as well.

"Thank you," said Jenna as they parted—Thao still clinging to her, refusing to let go. "Thank you so much for looking after him, I'm _so sorry_, I—"

"No trouble," Carol insisted, putting her hands up to halt the younger woman.

"Are you hurt?" Lori asked Rick when they'd finally pulled apart from each other, her eyes examining him.

Rick shook his head, looking closely at her. "No, but what happened to you?" he asked, turning her face gently by the chin to get a better look at the bandaged gash on her hairline and her split bottom lip.

"I…went lookin for you," she said in a low voice, ducking her head slightly.

"What?" asked Rick incredulously.

"Snuck out on her own," supplied Andrea—a tad snidely—standing with her arms crossed over her chest and her hip jutted out. "Shane went after her and brought her back."

"Are you _crazy_?" Rick asked his wife in a tense whisper, leaning in close to her so their eyes were at level. "You coulda—"

"Who the hell is that?" T-Dog exclaimed suddenly, pointing at the Cherokee that was parked behind the Chevy, a look of bewilderment upon his face.

Everyone moved to see what he was pointing at, and Shane stepped forward until he could see into the Cherokee. Sitting in the backseat, blindfolded and looking to be in worse shape than the rest of them, was a young man—he looked somewhere between eighteen and twenty—that none of them recognized.

"Randall," Jenna answered, her voice taking on a tone of very obvious distaste. Shane noticed her exchange a loaded glance with Rick; hers accusatory, his challenging.

Shane looked back at the young man in the car, understanding very well that a _lot_ more had happened in town than a walker attack.

"Come on," Carol urged Jenna in a gentle voice. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Not finding any reason to argue, she nodded gratefully in agreement, and Daryl stepped over to her again, holding his hand out to her. "I'll take your stuff," he offered, indicating the bloodied machete.

"Thanks," she said, her voice still tired, and pulled the cord that tied the blade to her belt before passing it to him. "Here," she added, maneuvering Thao so that she could reach around and pull the Beretta from her belt. When those were handed over, she pulled one last thing from her pocket and slipped it into Daryl's hand.

"Empty?" said Daryl quizzically as he took the magazine.

She nodded. "Both of them."

Shane's stomach twisted slightly when he heard that. She'd not only resorted to her gun, but she'd emptied both magazines? What the hell happened out there? He could've kicked his own ass for not going after them sooner.

"Here, I'll take that," said Dusty to Daryl, holding her hand out for Jenna's machete. Of course, she would know where Jenna usually kept it in their tent.

After a moment's hesitation, Daryl nodded slightly and passed her the blade before the two of them walked off in the direction of camp to stow away the weapons.

With that, Jenna let Carol lead her into the house, Sophia following along with them, examining Jenna with curiosity and concern. Thao had not released his hold on Jenna, and she had not released her hold on him, either. Shane fought the urge to go after her and demand to know whether or not she was as okay as she let on, and instead headed toward the Cherokee with the rest of the group to see about Randall, and figure out why the hell he was here with them.

* * *

Most of the group had gathered in the dining room around the table after Randall had been carried into the shed down by the stables, and he was currently having his leg patched up by Hershel. After everything that Rick and Glenn had shared with them about their night in town, Shane wasn't sure that the little prick deserved such generosity. And now he understood the silent exchange that had passed between Jenna and Rick outside the house—Jenna didn't seem to think he merited much more diplomacy than Shane did. Well, at least they were on the same page again.

Jenna had gone up to take a shower as soon as she'd been ushered into the house. Rather than joining the gathering to discuss things, she'd opted to take Thao and Sophia outside to pick peaches in the orchard, to keep them out of the weighty discussion. Also, Shane had the idea that she was not ready to part from her boy just yet.

Carl had been sent upstairs with Jimmy, but Shane had a sneaking suspicion that he was trying to catch as much of the conversation as possible, based on the single creak of a floorboard from the upstairs hallway.

"We couldn't jus' leave him behind," said Rick to the group, "he woulda bled out…if he lived that long…"

"It's gotten bad in town," said Glenn, solemnity coloring his voice.

"What do we do with him?" Andrea asked dubiously.

Hershel walked into the house then and joined them, shooting an angry look in Shane's direction for a moment, and wiped his hands on a rag. "I repaired his calf muscle the best I can," he told them. "But he'll probably have nerve damage. He won't be on his feet for at least a week."

"When he is, we give him a canteen, take him out to the main road an' send him on his way," Rick decided, and for the first time in what felt like a long time, Shane agreed with him. The sooner they got rid of that kid the better.

"Isn't that the same as leaving him for the walkers?" Andrea said critically.

_Hop off that high-horse, Andrea, _Shane thought as he leaned against the wall just a few feet away from the woman. She'd been all for leaving Merle behind in Atlanta when her own life had been endangered, but now that this little fucker had been shooting directly at the others, she didn't think they were doing right by him?

The screen door swung open and Shane's eyes shifted over in that direction to see Daryl entering the house to join the discussion. Damn. He'd been hoping for Jenna to join them. As drained as she was, he knew she would've had no reservations about giving Andrea a piece of her mind.

Dusty looked ready to claw the woman's eyes out though.

"You did hear the part about that asshole shootin at 'em, right?" she asked flatly.

Always one to maintain the piece, Rick intervened, holding a hand up before Andrea could respond and further the makings of a catfight. "He'll have a fightin chance," said Rick firmly, responding to Andrea's inquiry.

"Wait—we're just gonna let him go?" said T-Dog, perplexed. "He knows where we are."

Rick held up a hand to keep the man calm. "He was blindfolded the whole way here, he's not a threat," he reasoned.

"Not a threat?" asked Daryl, frowning. "How many of 'em did you say there were?" He gave his shoulders a slight shrug, showing he didn't intend to undermine Rick's authority, but just wanted to share his opinion. "Look, all I'm sayin is…y'all killed three of their men, an' for all they know, ya took one of 'em hostage. You don't think they're gonna be bringin some vengeance back here if they find us?"

While that idea had its merits, Shane didn't see that happening. As long as Randall didn't know where the hell he was, they were just fine.

"They left him for dead," Rick answered. "No one's lookin for this kid."

Daryl nodded slightly, accepting that, albeit a bit reluctantly.

"We should still post a guard," T-Dog maintained, not seeming to have been swayed.

"He's out cold right now," Hershel assured him, "will be for hours."

Shane pushed off from the wall with his shoulders, straightening to stand. "I'll take watch in a couple hours," he said, clapping T-Dog on the shoulder as he moved to pass him.

T-Dog nodded, and Shane exited the dining room and headed toward the front door. He wasn't paying the footsteps behind him much attention, his thoughts being to go and see if Jenna was willing to talk to him, but when Hershel's angry voice called to him, he stopped immediately and turned to face the old man.

"You," he said, coming to a stop at the edge of the entryway, glaring. "We haven't even dealt with what you did at my barn, yet," he reminded him, and Shane didn't miss the threatening note in his voice. "Let me make this perfectly clear once an' for all; this is _my_ farm." Shane let his head hang slightly, knowing he'd had this coming. "Now I wanted ya gone. Jenna an' Rick talked me out of it, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. So do us both a favor; remember you're a _guest_ here, at _my_ expense. You don't make the calls here."

Shane looked back up at him, and all he could do was nod. Words couldn't express the confused jumble of thoughts in his head. He was caught somewhere between accusation and regret. If he hadn't smashed that barn open the way he did, Hershel wouldn't have driven out to the bar in the first place. But, if it hadn't been for the old man revisiting his old drinking habits, no one would have had to chase after him. He didn't know what to think, so he had no idea what to say.

With that, he exited the house and stood on the porch for a moment, his eyes scanning the orchard in the distance. He could just make out Jenna and the kids, picking peaches. It looked like Thao was sitting on her shoulders, reaching for the fruit.

Seeing that she seemed to be happily enjoying time with her boy, Shane decided that he could talk with her later, not wanting her to have to sacrifice any bit of joy on his account.

"Shane," said Rick, walking across the lawn after him as he'd been making his way to his tent. "Lemmie talk to you for a minute?"

He nodded, knowing that he owed Rick that much at the least, and Rick jerked his head to the side, toward the fences that lined the cattle field. They walked along in silence, and Shane glanced up a few times along the way, checking on Jenna and the kids to be sure they were alright. He reminded himself that she was armed.

They both leaned against the old wooden fence, neither of them speaking for a long moment as they just gazed out at the field. It was a pretty nice day as far as the weather was concerned. The sun was shining, brightening everything up without overheating things. There was a nice breeze; not too strong, not too cold. The clouds in the sky were very minimal and bright white—definitely not rain clouds.

"I wanted to thank you," said Rick eventually, taking Shane by surprise. "For goin after Lori like that, bringin her back."

Shane shook his head. "You don't gotta thank me for that, man," he promised his friend—and it felt good to be able to call him that again; a friend. "There's no way I coulda jus' let her go after ya like that, with the way things are now."

Rick nodded. "I know, an' I'm grateful," he said sincerely.

Shane considered that a moment. "So am I," he said eventually. "Grateful. I guess if it wasn't for you, I'd be packin my bags, huh?"

Rick looked up at the fields, and Shane followed his gaze as it landed on the orchard, where Jenna and the kids were.

"To be honest, you have Jenna to thank for that," Rick said, turning his gaze back to Shane. "I tried to talk Hershel into it, but it was Jenna who convinced him." Shane was silent as he considered that. It had to count for something, right? She still wanted him around, at least. "I'm surprised she's still got that much energy, after everythin," mused Rick, his eyes turned back to the orchard; Jenna was swinging Thao around by the arms while Sophia cheered them on.

Shane let out a breath of wry laughter. "She's young, man," he reminded Rick—and himself. "An' I think part of her still might be used to goin days without sleep."

"So, what exactly is it that's kept the two of ya from gettin all tangled up?" Rick asked, definite amusement in his tone that time. Shane looked over at him, unable to find words for a second, which only seemed to amuse Rick even more. "What, you don't think I've noticed what's goin on with you two? I'd have to be blind, deaf, an' dumb not to."

Shane rolled his eyes then, leaning his elbows on the fence. "Ain't nothin goin in there, partner," he muttered wryly.

"The hell there ain't," Rick disagreed with a laugh. "The two of you are jus' too stubborn to admit that there is. I been waitin for weeks for one of you to make the move, but it hasn't happened. So what is it? An' don't tell me there's some sorta _compatibility_ issue, 'cause you'd be lyin through your teeth. She's practically your female counterpart."

Shane couldn't keep himself from laughing then, despite himself. "If that was true, we'da gotten _all tangled up_ a long time ago."

"Yeah, I know it," Rick agreed. He knew better than anyone else how true those words were, having been informed on every one of Shane's old conquests over the years. "Surprised it hasn't happened yet."

Shane gave him a long look. "It ain't gonna happen, at all."

Rick was never one to give up without a fight. "Ah, don't tell me she resisted your charm, Rev. Did she turn ya down? That's gotta be a first." When Shane just rolled his eyes, Rick laughed again. "You haven't even tried, have ya?"

"Naw, I haven't," Shane admitted, and somehow, he was starting to feel like they were back in high school, only their roles were switched. Fucking fantastic.

"Man, what happened to the Ladies Man of King County?" Rick joked. "One little woman's enough to turn you into a nervous wreck?"

"I ain't nervous," Shane said, rolling his eyes. "Jus' don't think it's a good idea."

Rick looked far from convinced. "Yeah? Why's that?"

Shane shrugged. "She's a little young, for one thing," he pointed out—pulling at straws, he was well aware.

"Never stopped ya before," Rick reminded him needlessly.

"Yeah, well, the world ain't like it used to be," Shane replied, running a hand over his face in agitation. "Things ain't that simple. Maybe I do like her, maybe I don't. None of that matters compared to everythin else that's goin on." He sighed and hung his head for a moment, feeling inexplicably exhausted suddenly. "Truth is, she's got her own issues, an' I've got mine. Everyone's got enough to deal with, without addin anythin else to the mix jus' for the hell of it. Jenna's got enough to worry about without addin me to that list."

Rick nodded, the humor vanished from his expression that time, as he mulled over Shane's words. "Wasn't sure how to tell ya this, but I'm jus' gonna go ahead an' say it," he began after a moment. "In the bar, when things got bad…" He hung his head for a second, and a sense of dread began to creep up on Shane. "She saved my life twice last night. Not jus' from walkers… She had to kill a man to save my life…an' I can't undo that for her."

Shane closed his eyes and leaned forward on his elbows, running a hand through his hair. That was the last thing he'd wanted to hear, but somehow, he'd known it was coming. How would this effect Jenna later? How long would this haunt her? She already had enough demons to contend with, and now she'd acquired a new one.

"I dunno what this is gonna do to her in the long run, an' right now I get the feelin that it hasn't really hit her yet—or she's jus' not lettin it sink in," Rick continued. "She ain't gonna be able to put it off forever, an' when this finally hits her…I don't know how hard it's gonna be on her."

Shane just waited silently for Rick to continue, not deeming it safe enough to venture a voiced response. He could only speak so much on this particular subject without giving everything away.

"She trusts you," Rick explained, and Shane almost laughed outright at that statement. Something of his thoughts must've shown in his expression, for Rick maintained his opinion. "She trusts you, Shane, more 'n she trusts any of the rest of us—except maybe Dusty, but I don't think she can help her out here. But I think you can, so when this thing finally hits her…I dunno, man, jus'…do what you can for her."

Shane didn't need to be asked twice, and he nodded, agreeing automatically. He'd been intending to be there if she needed him as soon as Rick had told him the full story of what had happened in that bar.

"Maybe you're right," Rick went on eventually. "Maybe now's not the best time for new relationships, maybe this ain't the best world for it either. But the fact is, none of us are guaranteed another day anymore. We can die at any moment, jus' like those men in the bar last night. We only have so much time allotted to us these days, so my advice, would be not to waste it. Because sometimes things are that simple, if you stop thinkin of all the reasons you shouldn't try, an' start thinkin of all the reasons you _should_."

With that, Rick left Shane with a brotherly clap on the shoulder before heading off in the direction of the camp. Shane leaned forward on his elbows again, watching as Jenna continued to entertain Thao and Sophia down at the orchard, finding himself smiling slightly.

Taking Rick's advice, he factored out all the reasons he had to stay away from Jenna, and instead focused on all the reasons he had not to.

Slowly, everything that had been eluding him started to seem obvious…_simple_.

* * *

**Note: **

I think I've kept you all waiting long enough now. The next chapter is already in the works, so it shouldn't be very long before the next update, and Shane/Jenna is officially on.


	50. White Flags & Words Unspoken

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead, and I never will. *Sigh* No copyright intended. **

**Warning: **Rated M for language, gore, and smut.

(50 chapters later, and this story officially earns it's M rating, so be forewarned.)

* * *

_"I am tired of trying to hold things together that cannot be held. Trying to control what cannot be controlled. I am tired of denying myself what I want for fear of breaking things I cannot fix. They will break no matter what we do."_

_—Erin Morgenstern_

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White Flags & Words Unspoken

Jenna leaned her head back against the wood surface of the shed, closing her eyes as the wind swept by in a gentle breeze, making her shiver a bit. All was quiet on the Greene farm, save for the sound of the wind moving through the leaves, and a few crickets that were chirping to each other from a distance. The night sky was dotted with stars, which stood out much brighter now that there were no lights from civilization to contend with.

Randall had been given another sedative when he roused to consciousness hours after his surgery—he'd been borderline hysterical when he woke up, swearing like a madman and wailing for help. No one had been able to calm him down—not that many people tried, admittedly—and Hershel decided to put him out again. According to the old vet, he would be out until dawn.

For which Jenna was supremely grateful, because it was sure as hell a lot easier to keep Thao from being aware of the captive in the shed if he wasn't screaming his head off. She hadn't told Thao much about what happened in the tavern, and she didn't plan to. He'd been satisfied by her explanation that included pretty much everything but Randall and his group, so she'd just leave it at that. She didn't want him to know they were keeping a living man prisoner in a shed outside, even if he knew the circumstances—because she didn't want him to know _that_, either. She didn't want him to know about any of it.

She'd never had to protect him from things like this before, and it was more trying than she could've imagined. Cannibal corpses, starvation, dehydration, exposure, injury…she'd successfully protected him from all of that so far, but this was a whole new playing field. But, as long as she kept him good and distracted—and she had a few ideas circulating her head on how to accomplish that—there was no reason he had to know anything about Randall.

At the moment, Thao was sound asleep in the tent with Dusty. She'd explained her absence by telling him it was her turn to keep watch that night, to which he'd reluctantly agreed. In actuality, she'd taken the graveyard shift for prisoner watch, seeing as she wasn't going to be getting any sleep tonight, either—not if she could help it. The last thing she needed was to have a plethora of altered versions of the bloodshed at Hatlan's Bar assaulting her head in her sleep. Or, worse; images of Miranda, blood-stained and chalky as the corpse she was.

She was glad Thao had been spared that visual too.

She sighed and raked her fingers through her hair, shifting her shoulders against the side of the shed a bit to try and relieve the tension. At least Randall made for an easy prisoner to keep watch on, in his unconscious state. All that left her to really watch out for were any walkers that might've wandered onto the property—but Shane would've seen them before she did, most likely. He had the better vantage point where he sat keeping watch up on the RV.

Of course, he would be the one to keep watch tonight.

Her anger at him had pretty much dissolved, which meant that she'd had to come to terms with other things. Like the fact that she'd been pretty harsh after the barn fiasco—more than what was necessary, anyway. She was angry at him before, but she'd taken her anger out on him for the wrong reasons she realized, now that she was a little more calm. He wasn't going anywhere. Hershel had decided to let him stay.

She knew she'd been harsh, and now, she just couldn't figure out a way to approach him. The idea that he might not have been very quick to forgive her had her keeping her distance.

And she felt like a fucking coward for that, too, which really annoyed her.

She blew out a frustrated sigh. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. If she wasn't fighting the dead for her life or someone else's, she was fighting the living for the very same thing, or she was struggling just to stay fed and hydrated, or running from danger and searching desperately for safety, and if she was safe, then she was isolating herself from the one person who she didn't have to hide from.

Did _everything_ in this world have to be such a struggle? Most days, she could handle it. Most days, she could make due by reminding herself that complaining wasn't going to do anything for anyone, so she might as well just suck it up and carry on. But it was days like these that had her ready to tear out her hair and scream at the top of her lungs.

The sound of approaching footsteps had her opening her eyes and sitting up a little straighter, but it took her only about a second to determine that those footsteps belonged to a living individual—and it took her about a second further to recognize the stride of said living individual.

_Fuck._

Why? Why now? Couldn't he have at least waited until morning to confront her? Not that she would've been rested, but maybe her head would've been a little more clear, at least. Her thoughts more organized.

Well, there was no getting around this any further. She recognized defeat for what it was. And, truth be told, part of her was actually glad to get this over with sooner rather than later.

Shane paused for a second when he reached the shed, standing just a few feet away, before he wordlessly seated himself beside her, leaving just a foot of space between the two of them. The fact that he wasn't saying anything had her a little on edge, but he didn't seem to be struggling to reign in his temper, so there was that. Even so, the tension between them filled that vacant foot of space, so thick and so palpable that it was practically its own living entity.

She studied him out of the corner of her eye, wondering if he was going to speak at all. In the dark of the night, she was only just able to discern his features. It wasn't too dark—the moon provided enough light to see clearly enough, and shadows weren't able to distort her vision too much.

Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet in the night air. "Y'alright?"

She nodded, knowing he wasn't just referring to her physical well-being. She'd seen him talking to Rick, so she could only assume that he knew the details of the way things went down at the bar. "I'm alright," she assured him, though she wasn't completely convinced herself.

"You haven't slept for almost a full forty-eight hours," he told her after a moment. "You oughtta get some sleep, girl. You earned it."

She shrugged. "Not tired," she said, which was both the absolute truth and a blatant lie. Physically, she was worn out. Mentally, she was wide awake. "You should be up on watch," she added, before he could dispute her claim.

"Figured I should take the chance to talk to ya while it was still there," he replied. When she didn't say anything, he continued. "Don't act like you ain't been avoidin me, girl. I think by now I know ya better 'n that," he said wryly.

She was unable to argue, but she couldn't find words to explain herself. Why was talking to him suddenly so difficult, when it had always been an easy, natural thing?

When he spoke again, all traces of humor had vanished from his voice. "You coulda died out there last night, Jenna," he said, his voice quiet, but carefully contained. "All it woulda taken was one second, an'—" He cut himself off, pulling a hand over his face as he dragged in a long breath and let it out in a slow, calming stream. "You coulda died. Coulda been killed. What then?"

She frowned at him. "What, you think if I knew that heading out yesterday, I would've gone?" she asked flatly.

"Wouldn't be the first time," he pointed out.

Before she could back up her reasoning, or make any sort of refute, he dragged a hand through his hair and blew out an exasperated breath before speaking again.

"Look, I didn't…I ain't here to take your head off, or anythin. I jus'… What happened yesterday…I wouldn't take it back. I did what I did for a reason, an' I wouldn't change that. But…if I could, I'd…I'd do it…I dunno, different, I guess—"

She couldn't contain the quiet laugh, and he looked back at her in puzzlement.

"You're really bad at apologies, aren't you?" she asked, still smiling slightly.

Shane, despite himself, smirked slightly, and seemed glad that she'd understood his intentions. "Yeah…guess I am."

Jenna smiled a little ruefully. "So am I," she said then, her eyes turning up to meet his again.

He gazed back at her for a moment, and nodded, recognizing her words for what they were; an apology.

They were both silent for a minute or two then, both of them leaning back against the side of the shed, letting the peace settle between them. The tension had mostly evaporated, but some of it still lingered. Jenna was just glad that they still understood each other, despite everything. Apologizing to him hadn't been as difficult as she'd thought it would be.

"I also came to thank you," said Shane, breaking the silence again. "For keepin my ass from getting kicked out—even if I am a hothead."

She smirked a bit. "Somebody's gotta look out for you, right?" she asked amusedly.

He let out a breath of laughter, nodding. "Can't deny that, can I?" he asked dryly. "Glad it's always you. Someone who's always thinkin, even if they don't make much of a habit of sharin their thoughts."

She just laughed under her breath a bit, knowing he was right about that to an extent.

"Why's it always you?"

Her eyes cut over to him, startled a bit by the question. In all honesty, she'd been struggling with that very question for a while, and she still hadn't come up with a satisfactory answer for herself. How in the hell was she supposed to give him one?

Shane was looking directly into her eyes, and she wondered how much they were revealing to him. "An' don't try an' tell me it has anythin to do with Russell or Otis, because you an' I both know that's bullshit," he told her, blunt as ever. The set of his eyes and the tone of his voice told her there would be no beating around the bush this time. "So tell me—why's it always you who's lookin out for me?"

Unaccustomed to this new area of vulnerability, Jenna tried to backtrack, though she knew it was too late for that. But, human beings were creatures of habit, weren't they? She'd spent the last few months perfecting the art of avoiding and escaping danger—this instance was no different. And yet, it was unlike anything she'd had to face before.

"You're my friend," she said, weakly. "I trust you."

He stared back at her still, deadpan. "Rick's my friend. He trusts me. So's T-Dog, an' Dusty, an' Daryl. I don't see them stickin their necks out for me as much as you do."

"I care," she said in a would-be casual voice.

He was silent for a moment, not moving his eyes from hers. "That's it, huh?" he asked, his tone telling her that he was far from convinced.

She knew she was stuck. She knew there was no way out of this. He'd knocked down every one of her feeble fortifications, and now he was just waiting for her to confirm what he could already see. Still, she couldn't speak. All she could do was nod—one last, vain effort to end this topic safely.

Shane studied her for a second, deliberating, and then, slowly, as though testing the waters, he reached his hand out and closed his fingers gently around her wrist. He seemed to be waiting for her to pull away, and when she didn't, he instead pulled her arm toward him, bringing her closer, slowly but surely, until her face was barely more than an inch away from his.

Jenna couldn't find the desire to pull away anywhere within herself. There was no force in his grip around her wrist—she could've easy pulled her hand free. She just didn't want to.

"You're real good at hidin things, I'll give ya that," said Shane. "But I don't believe ya for a second."

He gave her arm one more light tug, closing the inch of space between them in an instant. And any resolve she'd had to back away from him was completely eradicated the moment their lips met. Before she knew it, her fingers were tangling themselves in his hair and his arms were winding around her back, binding her against him. Her mind was suddenly clouded by the familiar, woodsy scent of his skin, the inviting warmth of his body, and the contrasting cool night air that wisped around them.

Both of them moaned at the long awaited sensation, and Jenna was well aware that they were both letting go of everything they'd been holding back.

Everything else that had been plaguing her mind up until that point vanished, and she instead focused completely on Shane. On the feeling of his powerful body against hers. On the sensation of his hands as they skimmed across her bare skin as they moved slowly up the back of her shirt.

Her mind was, for once, blissfully empty of anything other than _this_.

She didn't want to think about what any of it meant. She didn't want to analyze this, when she'd spent so much time and energy analyzing everything else for the sake of survival. No, she didn't want to think at all, really. For now, she wasn't worried about what this would mean to either of them, or whatever repercussions it may've entailed later. She just wanted this. This moment. This man. And for now, she had him.

She wasn't sure when she'd ended up straddling his lap while the unbroken kiss began to burn into something much more fierce than whatever it had started out as, but she didn't exactly care, either. All she knew was that the closer she got to him, the closer she wanted to get still, and judging from the way Shane was crushing her body against his, the feeling was mutual.

Eventually, they broke away from the kiss, both of them needing air, and Shane rested his forehead against hers while they both held each other and worked to catch their breath. She wondered if his heart was pounding has quickly as hers was.

He pressed his lips to her forehead for a moment, and then shifted her off of his lap and pulled her up with him as he stood. His gaze broke away from hers to scan around the darkened property, his eyes searching, and she knew what he was looking for; privacy. She gave the area a quick once-over of her own, and then grabbed his hand.

"Come on," she whispered.

Apparently having no reason to argue with her, he picked up his Mossberg from the ground and let her lead him across the lawn behind the shed, not stopping, even when they'd crossed through the tree line. Keeping a sharp eye on the surrounding wooded area all the while, they moved deeper into the woods, until she deemed them far enough away for privacy, but not so far away that they'd get lost.

No sooner was Shane pulling her in for another searing kiss, one hand getting buried into her hair and the other arm winding around her back after dropping the shotgun to the ground. She relished the warm, solid pressure of his powerful form against hers, but she was craving much more.

Making her intentions clear, she broke away from the kiss and started pulling off his jacket. As much as she would've loved to take things slow and explore this to its fullest, she was well aware that they just didn't have that luxury.

Following her lead, Shane rid himself of his jacket and shed his shirt immediately after, dropping them to the ground behind her while she let her hands skim over the smooth, taut muscles of his upper body. For not having had very much physical contact with him up until now, she was a little surprised at how familiar he felt to her already. Her heart was racing with the thrill of desire and that first-time spark, but she was also conversely calm and comfortable, feeling no trace of shyness when he lay her down onto his jacket and set to work on unbuckling her belt after pulling her Beretta free and setting it down beside his Mossberg.

She toed off her shoes and lifted her hips off the ground so he could slide her pants down far enough that she could kick them the rest of the way off. He dragged his hands up her legs and over her hips slowly, and he brought his mouth to hers as his hands moved higher and quickly and deftly unbuttoned her shirt. He kissed his way along her jaw and down her neck, and she groaned when his hand slipped between her legs. She writhed beneath him while he continued to massage her, and when he dragged his tongue across her stomach and up to her collarbone in a slow, serpentine trail, she arched up into him and tried not to cry out too loudly.

Under different circumstances, she would've been glad for him to take his time, but right then, she just wanted him, and she didn't want to wait anymore. She'd been waiting and holding back for weeks, and she was done.

Her hands found the buckle of his belt, and she worked it open quickly along with the zipper of his pants. She tugged them down, just far enough to free him, knowing it wouldn't be wise for him to remove them completely. Thankfully, he seemed to be through with waiting too, for he ceased with the teasing of his fingers and brought his mouth back to hers once more as he plunged inside her.

Their combined groan of pleasure was muffled by the fervent kiss, and she dragged her short fingernails down the length of his back as he eased into a steady, leisurely rhythm. She matched his pace eagerly, holding nothing back.

She was just aware of the goose bumps that spread over her skin as he skimmed his hands up her sides slowly. They moved up her arms until their hands met and he laced his fingers with hers, pinning them just above her head while he increased the intensity of their rhythm. He brought her to the peak of desire, and she arched up into him and bit down on his shoulder to stifle her cry of pleasure while he rode out her orgasm.

When she'd calmed from the surge of euphoria, she bucked her hips and rolled them over, switching their positions. Groaning appreciatively, he leaned up and scooted backward so that he was leaning back against the base of a tree while she sat astride him once more.

She wound her arms around the back of his neck as she ground her hips against him, feeling the heat building up within her again while they thrust against each other. His hands gripped her hips, guiding her into the rhythm he desired, and he trailed a series of open mouthed kisses along her neck and collarbone.

It wasn't long before pleasure erupted within her for the second time, and she tossed her head back, barely managing to control the volume of her euphoric moan. As though that were the cue he'd been waiting for, Shane increased his tempo and followed after her a few moments later, groaning in his own release while he wound his arms securely around her back.

Slowly, they both came to a leisurely stop, and their pleasure-filled panting saturated the air around them while they tried to catch their breath.

She let her head rest against his shoulder and she slumped against him as her weariness finally caught up with her. There was no way to ignore how tired she was now. She knew it was obvious to Shane too, when he chuckled a little breathlessly and pressed a kiss to her hair, rubbing a hand up and down her back gently.

"C'mon, little darlin, let's get ya outta here. Think you earned some sleep," he murmured into her ear.

"Mmm. Damn right I did," she mumbled into his shoulder, smirking tiredly.

He sat up a little straighter as she leaned back, and he brushed the hair out of her face lightly. His eyes locked onto hers for a long moment, his thumb skimming her cheek, before he brought his lips to hers again.

There was no force behind the kiss that time as their lips melted together. It wasn't fervent and rushed by a mutual burning desire. It was slower, softer, but no less passionate.

When they pulled back again, he was smirking at her. "That was even better 'n I thought it'd be," he told her honestly, running his hand up and down the bare skin of her thigh slowly.

She laughed quietly at the definite trace of triumph in his expression. "It really was," she agreed.

The smirk faded after a moment, and his expression sobered as his eyes delved into hers with a different kind of intensity. He seemed to measure his words before he spoke, telling her, "I don't…I ain't sure what this is…"

"Neither am I," she said truthfully.

"All I know is, I want ya in my life, Jenna," he continued, wrapping his arms around her back again, pulling her a little closer. "You're more than a friend to me—have been for a while now, jus' didn't wanna admit it. But I'm tired of actin like that's all you are."

She nodded, and rested her forehead against his. "I know," she breathed. "So am I. I don't know what this is either, but…we can figure that out as we go along, I guess. I want you in my life too."

"Glad to hear it," he murmured, and then she could hear the smirk in his voice when he continued, "cause ya got me in your life, whether you like it or not, darlin." She breathed out a tired-sounding laugh, and he kissed her cheek briefly. "C'mon, let's head back."

He pulled her up with him, and they both pulled on whatever articles of clothing they'd shed. Jenna was glad for the coverage, because now that they weren't caught up in the throes of passion, the night air was actually pretty cold. He handed over her Beretta once she'd completed buttoning up her shirt again, and they navigated their way back to the yard in comfortable silence, letting the new dynamic between them take form and settle.

When she turned in the direction of the shed, he caught her by the hand and tugged her away, giving her a bemused look.

"Girl, you crazy? You're dead on your feet. No way in hell are you gonna be able to keep watch for the rest of the night," he told her quietly before she could question him.

"I promised to take graveyard tonight," she protested in a whisper.

"I'll wake T up, he volunteered for graveyard tomorrow night anyway—he won't mind, after everythin that went down at the bar," he assured her when he could see that she was about to argue. "Like I said, you earned some sleep. Even you can't keep runnin on empty forever."

She had to admit that she was barely steady on her feet as it was, she was so damn tired. Reluctantly, she nodded her agreement, and he walked her over to her tent.

"See ya in the mornin," he whispered when they paused outside the door flap. "Or afternoon," he amended with a soft chuckle when she couldn't hold back a yawn.

Looking up at his warm dark eyes, she could tell that he had more to say, but was holding it back for whatever reason—as was she. She decided not to push it tonight, however. It could wait for now. It was impossible to miss the affection in his gaze, though, and she smiled slightly before leaning up on her toes and leaving him with one last kiss for the night.

"Goodnight," she whispered, and unzipped the door of the tent.

"'Night," he replied.

She slipped quietly into the dense darkness of the tent, zipping the door closed behind her. Relying on nothing but memory and familiarity of her surroundings, she was able to safely navigate her way to her own sleeping bag between Thao and Dusty without disturbing them. They always slept in the same spot. Dusty to the left, Thao to the right, and Jenna in between them.

For the first time in a long time, she was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

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**Note:**

I've never written smut before, so hopefully I didn't disappoint too much. But, at least Shane/Jenna is official as of now. I know I've made you guys wait for _so long_, and I'm sorry for that.


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